We walk among each other,
Judging people for whom they may be.
Basing our judgments on their looks,
It is never the inside that we see.

A pretty girl with blonde hair,
And big, aqua blue eyes,
May be somebody perceived as dumb,
But whom much smarter than we realize.

A colored male with corn rows,
And a bandanna tied to his jeans,
May be seen as a gang member,
But is a gentleman who is hardly mean.

A girl with black hair and eyes,
May be thought of as a goth.
Some will view her as a satanist,
Even though she is as harmless as a moth.

When we decide to guess who one is,
Because of the way they look,
We miss who the person really is:
A human form of a mystery book.