It flew out your mouth,
"you can drive me anywhere- just drive me anywhere but here."

Tonight, the length of your neck is a lonely parapet; you are armed to the teeth and looking for a fight.

It was in your mothers dress that the temper finally showed signs of slowing down.
Your fingers traced the route of the seam
(like a map of your body that landed just shy of your knees).

It fell the same way on your mother- as she was,
at that age, the same height as you.

She never faced a fear quite as sharp,
but her sister did and it broke her heart

What came out your mouth next was a series of mistakes-
you had taken all you could take,
and here tonight, the weight of their stares,
well they could bury you alive. You are worn to the bone,
and looking to disappear.

And who could blame you?

It was in your mothers dress that the temper finally died out, and gave way to the fear that keeps its company with such a loud mouth!

(Like the sound of an earthquake tearing out terra firma's mouth).

You must not let it in, and keep your head up on top of your body.
There are far, far worse things than this,
so we must move with purpose and do what has to be done.