Unsafe I am (part 2)

3 Should I feel safe, aware that I am weak? Should safety arise from learning how to press, to crush the living, lifeless both, to speak in power’s tongue, to feel a little less afraid? no If harm becomes my only shield, what kind of safety stands on broken ground? What strength is this, if all it can yield is silence bought with love's ruin piled around? 4 I feel safe when my senses lose their edge; I feel safe when I’m never left alone, with those I trust enough to cross that ledge, to kill me, if the moments were well unknown. I feel safe ringed by pleasure, object, flesh, by things that dull the sharpness of my sight and might. I build my walls from habit, desires, and excess, and call that shelter, call that our silent night.