Let Out
You need an outlet.
A place to let out those things you keep to yourself.
But as with an electric outlet,
when y’all go poking around,
trying to get in to spaces not meant for you;
ya get burnt,
ya get voltage,
ya get fried from the inside.
Maybe all this social media,
all this Brené Brown vulnerability and shame research,
all this share cause we care stuff
is not all green grass, rainbows, and unicorns.
When you prod the outlet —
this writing,
this soul,
will let out.