Words That I Keep To Myself

Dear Child,

there is no hate like a mother's love
the burning tears
her screams bouncing from wall to wall

there is an ache in my chest
why is she yelling?
i think i know, but i might not

i think she's angry about more than an unmade bed
or wrinkled school skirts
if only i knew why...

is it me?
am i the problem?
i haven't done anything, have i?
i think that maybe your anger is a bit misplaced

if you are mad at the world, why must you be mad at me?

-your first-born child