The echo of footsteps crunch the gravel on the sidewalk as I walk hurriedly,
Not knowing whether they’re mine or anothers.
The sweet aroma of fear motivates my ever quickening stride,
Yet paralyzes me to turn around.
The night in its black love,
blankets me in darkness and chills,
Like a thin hand,
it fingers the crevices of my spine,
Sending shivers down my back.
But still I am too afraid to turn.
My shadow looms above,
So much bigger than its owner,
Or is it mine?
Reaching the door I fumble with the keyhole,
Slipping it in, I carefully close the door behind me,
and alas, am admitted to peace.