There is no one safe

   There is no one safe.

And I'm writing poetry and saying everything

I'm tearing open my heart and sharing it's thoughts

what kind of happening is this

what's going on

to step right into silence and feel it's icy wind

to scream out all my wonderings and wonder if 

i'm the only one who listens

does any of it matter to anyone at all?

why am i running headlong into this fall?

this would look so reckless, or maybe mostly brave

So i am scared of everyone

and i'm not that far from my cave

I could still find my way there and no one would have

to know, that I ever stepped into the madness, that 

I ever left the gentle flow.

They would never have to see my tears when I was

very mad, and they would never have to know how

desperately i longed for isolation when i was sad

They wouldn't hear words so they wouldn't know feelings

they wouldn't be able to throw things 

be unyeilding

There is no one safe

but i stand in the storm shouting out all that i am

and waiting my turn to turn pages and pages

read reckless brave words written by me

or perhaps sung by some birds

There is no one safe

not a one in this land

then why do i reach out a quivering hand?