I find something frightening
about the absence of fear.
I want to hide away
from standing out in the open.
That feeling of trust
is not to be trusted.
I stand in the forest
hoping I look like a tree.
I shrug off the feeling,
I know it's my own mind
that keeps my heart on a shelf.
I open my clenched fists
I cry to the world come and get it.
Shirley Smith January 2020
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