Mama, give me some advice.
I know I won’t follow.
Mama, why can’t I?
Who am I if not the wife without a husband
you set me out to be?
Why couldn’t I just follow and be miserable like you and grandma?
Why am I so different?
If I could’ve just listened,
my hair would’ve fallen even more than now
because of one or two running around.
My eyes would reflect yours,
angry clouds that for years on end
didn’t seem to clear up.
Mama, why couldn’t I follow the certain path?
A path at least I know the ending to,
a walk I know goes in circles
inside of a park.
Instead I chose to ride a bull by the horns
and fall so many times.
It’s run so far off the path,
I’m no longer sure of my why.
Now you tell me it’s ok,
that I’m better off now.
I wish you would’ve told me that before,
but I know you didn’t know either,
or you also would’ve run outside the park
you’re still trapped in.