We all craft a side of us, The one we share with society, A side that is palatable, Not a main dish. Sharing our benchmarks, The ones that deem us successful, Albeit, Shallow success in a capitalistic world, To have a job, a family, a home. To bring me home to meet the parents. See you know, Exactly of what I speak, But for you? I can never be that person. You were so assured that your parents would love me, Perhaps if I hadn’t spilled red wine on your mother, And told your father, He was a hot-head who’s anger fuelled nothing, They might have. Truly, it showed me who they were, It bared their soul for all to see, Primalistic beings. Can I say it was accidental? No. Wasn’t that the point? To get to know one another? Or did you just want the societal mask? It’s who I always was, Who I always will be, An Instigator. I like to stir things up, Kick the wasps nest, My skeletons have always been on show, I just enjoy making others share theirs. See, even with this letter to you, I am telling you exactly who I am, And why I can not marry you. Despite, every intention to uncover you, You hide away behind the mask, The mask society allowed you to craft, Surely, you don’t enjoy working for that soulless company, That cares not if you were dead, Yet, you tell everyone who’ll listen, That you love your job. Tell the truth, Do the lies help you to sleep? Why would I marry you? You wouldn’t even stand up to your own parents, What did they say last Christmas? Oh yes, That I was a Bitch. I care not about the insult, truly, it’s laughable, What cut deep was your silence, You sat there like a scolded child. I am not a child, and nor do I want to marry a man-child. Perhaps, One day, you too will be able to reflect, To learn from that moment, But I shall not be there to bear witness, To see that you finally grew up, I can not be your father, I will not be your mother, I’d stand by you as your equal, But you aren’t there yet. It’s okay, many people aren’t, It’s hard to stand there and say no, To quit the soulless job, To remove the toxicity of family, To burn those bridges down. I don’t judge you for it, But I can’t stick around for it. This is my reflection, This is Who I Always Was.