Out of the corner of my eye, I see you
staring at me.
I know you're not smiling;
You're too angry with me.
I wait for your complaint about
something... anything.
The way I screw on a bottle cap, wipe
the counter, or put my silverware
in the drawer.
I don't know what I've done to you--
I never have.
It's as though you're breathing down my neck
saying "Hurry up, hurry up!"
I've only wanted to move freely
in my own house-
This seems too much to ask.
You speak to me and your tone is sharp;
makes my adrenaline shoot up, like mercury.
Angrily, you walk past me-
You turn your head and cringe.
It's as though I'm some kind of a Leper.
I don't know what I've done to you-
I never have.
I only wanted respect.
This seems too much to ask.
I don't care to be commanded as though
this is the army, and you are my general.
This is our home, but to you, I think it's boot camp.
You say I make you sick.
"When will you learn to get it right," you ask.
I can't even learn from my own mistakes;
you twist them around and say whatever you want.
Here we go again...
Lord help me, I can't win!
Confidence is now fear...
Fear of the trivial:
"Are the towels folded correctly?"
"Have I vacuumed well enough?"
"Are the dishes washed to your satisfaction?"
Heaven forbid I should make you unhappy!
I don't know what I've done to you-
I never have.
CES (C) 1998.
