The Influence Of Night

My hand is in my pocket, the assumption of a gun,
Fight or flight? you turn and grab the hand of your son,
A parking lot of swaying lights,
Shadows dance and prepare for fights,
I step closer, my destination is known,
The gap between, you, your son then finally my home,
I can hear the sweat fall down your face,
My voice hides so I slow my pace,
The size and shape of my body is only part of me,
The book of stereotypes is only relevant if the opposite you see,
Your son attempts to look back,
His youth can see me, you see a shadow in the black,
The child of time only becomes nervous as his mother starts to shake,
Her look is of the mind of an adult, thus only can he take,
They approach the exit, attempt to open the door,
She finds relief, an open door will bring forth the idea of law,
Protection in numbers, her well being soon,
The assumptions of security dancing under the silver moon,
The door is locked, the other door hides on the other side,
She picks her son up, on her shoulders for a ride,
My hand is in my pocket, the assumption of a gun,
My hand hold a phone, I shake my head as she begins to run.