Mother I think...
I want to smash a glass house,
and watch each fragment spray into the air.
As easy as deodorant from a can it stays
Clinging to your skin so fare.

Mother think...
Tree roots impale the corpses and the forgotten,
they gain nutrients in their dirty bed.
So glass can stay there is skin to give.
"Stand straight. Book on your head. "

Daughter I think...
Do what your mother tells you.
Don't smash glass houses.
Composure is important. Stand straight.
Enjoy your isolation and disclosure.

You always were a wicked child,

Let your mood flow away like an icy tide.