Twelve Minutes

Every footstep is a threat,
even my own.

I turn up the volume
as if not being able to hear them
means that they aren't there.

I have no one to trust,
no one to hold my hand.

I keep looking behind me,
expecting the worst.
The streetlights give me comfort,
until
I wonder what horrors they've seen 

in the dead of night.

Groups are safer.
Groups don't make me feel afraid.

Each time I make it home,
my relief lessens and
my terror heightens because of it.

I should be more frightened
each time I walk home alone.
Right?

Strange that being safe
makes me feel more unsafe.

It only takes nine minutes if you walk quickly.