Marcello Colasurdo Poet I do not know?

Keeping Up Appearances

Mother dearest don't you know?
of the clean freak I've become.
When people ask me where I'm from,
I raise my finger to the plateau. 

Remember the dirt under my bed?
it seemed like I really didn't care.
Unfolded clothes still on my chair,
my homework still new and unread. 

And what about all the chores?
you would not even let me sleep;
until I finished that linen heap,
the blame was seldom ever yours.

Have you forgotten of the guilt?
I could not leave without consent.
You fears would anchor me like cement,
In the concrete prison that you built.

So how many days did I remain?
on this high risen ground of demand.
For I was crippled and now I stand,
on the surrounding fields of grain.

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