Mother, I've a question

for you--as you questioned

me to talk to yourself.

my solitariness shook you

to your core, those nine

months endeavor to teach

You too.

so it was you asked yourself,

your son--why he can be alone

like a madman.

I stepped forward only to reply--

that type of question rubs me

the wrong way.

yours was a plea for company, and

a loving condemnation for he that

avoids it.