Dark crowded streets
Create my horror story
My head is constantly swiveling
Looking for a possible abuser
My clothes adjusted
My eyes trained ahead
Avoiding all reason to be targeted
I am jostled from behind
Where was I touched?
My pounding heart
My sweaty palms
My quickened pace
I cannot be the next victim
YOU ARE READING
in a world called my mind
Poetrythere are times talking to people doesn't help, and words are the only comfort.
