An Undrunken Glass of Milk

Since when did her opinion become mixed up with your rules and dictations

What good is an ear if it never receives the words said?
The mouth seems to do a good job of being louder than the phrases pled

And when did her existence become an uneaten piece of bread?

Her heart breaks with every insult slapped

The stubborn cages in you refuse to open it’s flaps

The thoughts escalate and send her into a lapse

And fury fills to their caps

Your words are masquerades comfort and kindness only to be met a beastly cold

She plays the part and dances with actions, unknown what they mean

When they are truly disappointment of being young and different

You provide the bare minimum of raising a child and say, “Don’t forget your milk.”

How could she forget something that balances the line between caring and hatred?

Is she really just that untouched glass of milk stalled out on a kitchen table?

When was she the daughter you tell her she is?

Who will teach her the difference between a mask of gorgeous feathers and a face of beautiful kindness?

She looks back, and doubts it’s that one glass of undrunken milk.

Reviews

[alifeacoustic]

Sounds to me to be another case of do as I say, not as I do, which must be confusing for all concerned, especially a child, who as you say, looks to her parents and adults in her life for guidance and support, only to be told one thing while seeing another.
Nicely captured and well written piece.