The Walk Home

A young girl walks home
Alone, after midnight.
She stares behind,
Regret mounting,
As the paranoia builds.
She fears the night,
As inevitable as it is.
She fears the possible
And recounts horror stories.

The man in her path
Is a father of three,
He works late to provide.
He loves the night wind
And gazing at the stars.
He is at peace here,
On his nightly starlit walks.
The stillness soothes
A hectic day’s thoughts.

Him looking up,
Her looking back,
The initial contact
And the deafening scream.

Pistols in hand,
And fear pervasive.
Either may decide,
Either will regret.
Would either be wrong
For pulling the trigger?

I honestly don’t know.
I hate to accept it,
But society has instilled
A constant fear
In the populace
And the norms
Are killing more

2 thoughts on “The Walk Home”

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