Perhaps we'll never
understand each other.
Loving doesn't mean that we agree.
If that were so, then I would say, why bother?
But there are things I know I'll never see.
I'm sure your heart knows what I don't yet know:
The pain of loving a reluctant son;
The anger, coming fast and building slow,
Of being helpless to control someone.
You want only that I grow up right,
But you know what right is, and I still don't.
I have to learn to wield my inner light,
And if I follow yours, well, then I won't.
I'm sorry for the anger in the air;
Though we fight, my love is always