Social Agoraphobe

Against my mind,
these thoughts do bind:

Pairs of eyes, so
willing to despise.
A fleeting glare, could
push me to despair.

Pain, nay pleasure, it be-
to those eyes judging me.

Care not, I will, of such thought,
for it would make my being hot.
A bubbling sort of confusion
runs its course through such illusion.

A body here, a body yonder,
each one paused in place, to ponder.
Shifting through them in this maze,
my mind is freed from doubtful haze.


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