Escape

you dont remind me of much you have your mother's victim face although you hide it behind rhetoric and false rebellion I stand on my side of the fence arms crossed in my apron a matron from the fifties and I watch you lie to the other children huge unbelieveable stories believing your lies as you go one little boy mistakes your bather for rebellion and he falls in love poor lad now you can use him to do your dirty deeds and blame him for your failures of course you'll marry this boy in college and have a child to bind him to you oh poor soul but then again escape is the turn of the door knob.