Judge and Jury

Should I disregard what other people think or, balanced on the brink, maintain a thin-veneered façade? Where shall I store, how shall I keep, the poetry I must write but cannot show-- that which smolders deep and threatens to erupt? Must I lock it all securely in a box, store it high upon a shelf where none are wont to go? Would it be likely to corrupt the innocently unaware? Should I, at least, pretend to care? Might not I plunge into the mob, joining others of this ilk... should it be my job to preach, now the day has finally been reached -- to walk alone in open air, free from fear of full disclosure? Would my revelations stir those who taunt, who hate? Might not their spate of hurtful words, and worse, prompt my avoidance of the fate they threaten, encourage my reluctance to unmask? And may I be moved, instead, in surly tones, to ask who made them my judge and jury?