Concealing

You were never a terrible mother.
If I strayed outside your comfort zone,
you saw yourself through others' eyes:
a failure, a tragedy.
You treated me like an ornament,
making sure I properly represented you.

Mother, you were never nasty.
Only trapped in your own head.
Unable to see that people
really didn't judge you for the way
your perfect little boy failed
to meet your nervous expectations.

So I grew up in a world where love
meant only that you trusted
I would be your flawless little doll,
forever concealing your insecurities.
Never seeing me as a human boy
hungry for life and seeking hope.