Her

Dear, mom

it's been a while, eight years almost 

here i am confused, aloof, and morose

i promised you i'm doing fine 

spreading lies through the phone line

everytime we talk, and everytime i walk

within each spring in my step i hear 

the doors lock from when i was small

can't you understand that i'm broken 

no you couldn't, not at all 

not from summer, not from winter, and not even from fall

this isn't me being impudent, despite all the things you meant 

i'm not you so please stop comparing me 

i'm not anyone's property so stop sharing me 

and start sparing me the trouble 

because i've gotten into so much 

ever since i've grown the stubble on my face 

i know you think i'm a basket case 

you think i move a faster pace 

with a specialty for bitter taste because that's all that comes out 

i could use a wishing well 

or someone to tell 

but anyways mom i just hope you're doing well.