Turn Of Phrase

When my filter starts to roam,
I overstate my undertones,
Don't understand they're overblown,
Until I'm standing all alone.

When my sensor starts to fade,
And the tension turns to rage,
I'll use a stupid turn of phrase,
And be duped by what I say.

When my tongue begins to slip,
I'm too young and ill-equipped,
To be silent and submit,
Or be still and not resist.

When my lips begin to flap,
The subtle script is scrapped,
Each rebuttal's an attack,
Which cannot be taken back.

When my mouth does finally close,
Words are mine, and mine alone,
And that's all fine until they roam,
Into my mind and it is blown.