Leaving Stockholm

Sensitivities put my young self at a disadvantage;
Maps went missing.
And while I was not naturally graceful,
"I'll kill you!" was easily caught.
My driver neglects to look in the rearview mirror.
Words lobbed like a dirt clod from the side of the road,
"If you know what's good for you.."
Fact is, I didn't.
Add a fist and the red flashing light couldn't convince me to go.
"Don't be so stupid, stupid!"
Silence behooved me, "Be a good girl."
Then it befriended me, "Tell and you're dead."
As fear is cornered and convinced it's love.
"I'll kill myself if you leave."
Empathy has done me a disservice.
How many times did I pass the exit?
A change of scenery does not necessarily change the scenario,
I heard every word, you see, patterns bound in belief.
Fast lane to 50, I found the road a while ago.
I'm a decent driver now, much to Mother's surprise.
The road markers of time now the faint yellow of a bruise,
As hope was unpredictably found in a foreign wayside,
A landscape so breathtaking that the dirt is all but obliterated.
Still the black tar bubbles in the heat and resurfaces.
God, point me back to the highway again and again,
That "most excellent way" out of Stockholm.

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