They consume the dimly lit corners of your life;
hoods up.
Stares as cold as icicles, glares that pierce.
You shudder as you walk past
They sneer at you.
You wonder and ponder, often concluding
You question yourself, your being, your person
Why do they stare?
Why does it linger?
Why do they not look away?
They intimidate you,
confine you to a space; escape is impractical
You are intimidated.
You acquaint yourself with the symmetry of the paved road
You take solace in its silent, dark, stable, motionless self.
You seek acceptance in its presence
You seek liberation.
The nitrogen oxide-filled, cyanide-containing smoke escapes from the under the hood
Teeth flash, feet shuffle and the silent night is disrupted by the boom of a laugh
You miss a step, almost falling.
They shared a joke, you didn’t get it.
They stand huddled in a group
your every move brings them closer
You yearn for the sight of the pavement
You yearn to be free
The chill from the steel of the lamppost fills your senses
Its light, dim as it may be, shines brighter than the sun
A glance over your shoulder you will not risk
Your sanity depends on it.