writing to mum

my pen dances
in uncertain circles
upon the parchment

my life in words
could they be heard
in its entirety
by you

what do i hide
why have i to

you who gave me life
led me to my dream
and yet conjure the fear
of inadequacy
of falling short

my life in words
seems sadly lacking
the passion of reality
the true pangs i feel

"who is this girl i see
staring straight back at me"
i am not the me i used to be
and yet i am

strange.

estranged?

refuse to believe so
for u are always close to me
and i am still me
your daughter

my pen dances
in choreographed fluidity
can you see
the me i portray
or is it still a hazy grey?...