Wasn’t sure why.
Couldn’t face the mournful music of polite rebuff:
My own words deflected
Or reflected as if in some strange, monosyllabic mirror -
Devoid of intent to introduce
One single shred of personality,
Or of any promise other
Than putting this pretence out of its misery.
Couldn’t bear the charade
In which I would ‘play the part’ of a parent
Because she wouldn’t let you let me be me.