Based in Boise, Idaho, The word No Has Escaped is a blog by Regan Meade. Her posts explore her life and the world around her through poetry; and to explore the creative mind by encouraging other writers to challenge themselves with writing prompts.

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern:

Where do I start describing my life? My

chaotic haphazard and oddball life, full of

unbalanced ideas of how it should go, of how my life

is not going on the straight edge that most believe it should go,

I am that one person who hides perfectionist tendencies behind quiet exteriors,

to make sure that balance is always there,

contradictory statements are always made on when I start describing

how music makes the world twirl in rapid succession to thumping beats of

blood and electrifying bass through flailing limbs of fancy,

make believe rituals flowing through the air, weaving runes onto my very

inner being; begging, no, pleading, to be that child who was so voice full of

her thoughts and never hid a false statement in the pot of split-pea soup,


how does it feel when I start describing my childhood and how it went from

fanciful flouncy flowy dresses of monkey kings and upside-down cakes, to ripped jeans

mud cakes baked with the best of intentions and little worm decorations that were pink


and disturbed the eyes with erotic curves and writhing figures,


when did I start describing how I was never a fan of tea parties when dressed as a royal figure topped with a cherry lime-aide crown,

How the female mind at the age of 4 disgusted me! I hated preschool,

being told what to do, how to do it was never my style,

stripped bare to what I loved, but was shoved inside of an outdated box of femininity

that was not my forte,

being cajoled to understand things that even the aliens wanted nothing do with,


was I that undesirable as a human that the very race I belonged had to change my soul

 to fit their world of cynicism and block molds that had been breaking down into dust

from decades of use and misuse?



was where I stated describing dinosaurs to my friends, the raptors were my friends dusted in flamboyant feathers to distract from the turmoil inside,

the longnecks towered over the crowd as gentle huge footed giants that forgot about

the squirrel mushed between their toes,

Duckbills were placid,

Spiketails were wanders lost amongst the foliage of brick walls,

The T-Rex was thought of as dumb and without purpose

but with a heart of platinum shining bright,


The world of dinosaurs is the time I wish I could have been alive to see, strong ideals

preying on weak minds and weak bodies finding strength in stealth,

Delivering blows to the psyche of young saplings grasping at rays of light,

Taking those rays and slashing them with black and blue swirls,

But not everything is how it is originally described,

Time is not the enemy,


Maybe it is

It tricks the brain synapses to think that it means no harm

that it is only there to make the day go by faster to let you out of the prison of mundane

lectures and horrible bosses to absorbed in their own lives they don’t realize how this

world works,


Taking life is just a pass time of Death,

Who lives with his family amongst the taken souls in hues of gray and red,

He feeds them like pigeons at the park and treats them fairly,

Unruly behavior is not tolerated,

When it becomes too much they’re sent down to

Hades to serve their punishment for civil disobedience,

Those who are good to fellow spirits and men in their former lives,

they’re allowed to meet their families with sight unseen before re-entering their lives

thorough another soul to keep on reliving and meeting every member of the family.


Nothing is as described in my life.

It changes from bleak to gold to grey to blue

in a matter of seconds that leap into hours to months to years of

pain that remains hidden behind the windows,

banging on the glass trying to show the world

they’re locked in the room with no control over how the cage appears,


Frustration at poor choices and Death knocking at the back door

tempting with sweet indecision of emotion.

My life is described as perfect when all that is a lie caused

by parents who can’t control their own children

“Oh she’s so perfect”

“Why can’t you be more like her?”
Words hurt

especially as backhanded comments from the ones who are supposed to love you

to shelter you from storms of ridicule from peers

“Bottle it up.” Or “Don’t show weakness.”

Usually heard from fathers but

now are words that I tell myself to hide behind the lie of my life.

To hide the emotions, I am not equipped to handle!

How do I do this!

When emotions have become my downfall and my life is suffering because

I am not equipped to deal with the tragedy of Death but loss

is something I am used to

The dark part of my childhood was pushed into the forgotten box at

the back of the mind

Lost amongst the fear of a stabbed heart of a former friend

All because he was told he had to go home.

My life is chaotic and haphazard

there is no map to navigate through the waters

Lost amongst the foliage and waves of society

But it is not a life I would throw away

I will not toss it away though Death stands at the corner smiling

beckoning me to join my family already taken to Death’s side

Frantically waving their arms



This is my life friends


we’re here till the end of all the bitterness and sweetness of decisions

based on unknown possibilities.

Life’s difficult but it’s all I have and it’s

the only one with you in it.



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