My mother, a woman of courage
Has one fear-





Dying under an overpass
The sounds of a rickety ensemble of pavement
Bring anxious eyes to her weathered face


Through the summers we drove
past the streets of our choice
back to land i was born on
I would picture the overpass crushing our car
My blood painting the nearest wall
Responding to the nearest graffiti
Answering the intricate designs with a raw masterpiece of my own flesh

The streets-
Typical of a small town stereotype
All of the overgrown egos
The men who peaked in high school but are addicted to attention
The women who compete with their daughters to fit into skinny jeans
All of the woods and random ponds
Littered with beer cans and wrappers from last night's bonfire
The untouched meadows and treetops only the children have explored
However the adults need fairy dust to cloud the allusion of growing too
old for innocence


It was in Falls Creek that I found my first taste of peace
The waters would wash me clean
Pretending to be a mermaid was pure bliss
Unfiltered happiness

There was a waterfall in the creek
The water that fell,
It showered me in a magic
The smooth rocks supported me when I stood,
Stood up for myself,
For the things I loved
But when I left,
I thought i would always crumble back to my fragile mind
There was always that ember, waiting to be lit
The waters of Falls Creek set it aflame.