mother dearest, why do you hate this so?
what have i scrawled upon cyber paper that infuriates you?
you think im miserable
cant you see how happy i was?
sitting here contentedly at my little 800 dollar computer
that you bought just for me and my brother
with dads own money
typing away at something of no relevance to you
i spend too much time at my little 800 dollar computer
surely it cant be anything important
and you find something
printed by accident
and you read it
and it curses
and speaks of pain
and you think im miserable
and here i am, typing away
and youre off at the movies with dad
so youll never know
youll never know how much you did to me
in the two minutes you yelled
in the two seconds you told me to shred it
in the two seconds you defeated my passion
too bad i had it saved on that little 800 dollar computer
too bad youll never have a chance to appreciate what i do
too bad you dont realize that i write of pain for a reason
too bad you didnt read it slower
and you only get one chance
you can only humiliate what i love once
dont think ill let you try again
"whats that youre writing?"
and its my masterpiece
its everything i need to be as a writer
and you make me think, mother dearest
and you make me glad, to know i still have this
that something is still mine
"o, its nothing."
and i know ill never let you read it
and maybe you know it too
and maybe youve been shut off from your little girl
maybe two seconds was all it took
whos miserable now?