Anthropophobia Poem by Sophia White

I walk into the teeming room
Brimming with people
It seems to me
That it must be
They all turn to stare at me.

I walk down sidewalks cleanly swept
Walk through grass so finely clipped
It seems to me
That it must be
Other walkers turn to stare at me.

I drive through crowds of thronging faces
Filling the street with furtive cliques
It seems to me
That it must be
They all turn to stare at me.

I walk into the lonely wood
Where trees like towers gently rise
It seems to me
That it must be
Here there are none to stare at me.