Sorry, Mom.

I'm sorry I can't be the person you want me to be, mom.
I'm sorry that you have such low expectations of men.
I'm sorry you would like me to hold my tongue sometimes.
You call it one thing,
I call it lying.
Whether you're hiding it, or giving it a new name,
It's a lie just the same.

I'm sorry I'm not the perfect son,
I'm sorry that you can't see me for who I am.
Instead of the monster you created.
You think it's one thing,
I think it's hurtful.
Whether you're hiding it, or calling it a metaphor
It still makes me hurt more.

I'm sorry you think you've sheltered me too much.
I'm sorry you think I can't see if someone is trying to offend me or not.
I'm sorry that I miss social cues
You call it one thing,
I disagree.
Whether you're hiding it, or making it blatantly obvious,
There's no reason to be vicious.

I'm sorry that you can't see the world as you did before.
I'm sorry that you think everyone is horrible.
I'm sorry you've lost faith in the general public.
You call it one thing,
I call it cynicism.
Whether you hide it from us, or keep it to yourself,
I won't ever put them on the same shelf.