Encore

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if my mother doesn’t know.

As if my father needs to tell her.

 

I lie in my bed

A girl interrupted

My mind on the edge of sleep

Zoning in and out of pointless questions

And raised voices and semantics.

 

 Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if it’s ritualistic

As if God would strike her down

 

For not starting the morning

With this unholy prayer.

Fingers only brought together

To make fists – not wishes.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if it were a performance

As if we asked for an encore.

 

My brother and I are the unwilling audience

To this pantomime.

We know all the songs

But we don’t sing along.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if my mother isn’t tired of asking

As if my father isn’t tired of listening.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if the shouting doesn’t deafen them

As if the shouting doesn’t deafen us.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

As if my brother’s tears aren’t enough

As if tears aren’t enough.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

As if my father can’t decide if he should answer.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Now I hear it in the night.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

I hear it on the phone.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

I hear it through my headphones.

 

Where do you think you’re going?

Almost every morning I’m woken up by the same question

 

Now I hear

Where have you gone?

 

 

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