My mom likes to  think I'm just like her

That I love crowds of people and constant noise

That I love calling all attention to myself

And that I like conflict

My mom thinks I hide my real self from the world

But really I have to hide from her

I draw the curtains of my mind closed when I'm with her

I stand downstage in the single white spotlight she shines on me

With the pressure to say and do everything right

I can't step outside of the cirle of judgement 

Not infront of her

She doeesn't realize that the two by two spotlight she shines

Isn't the only place for me to go

She doesn't see that there is a whole stage behind me

That lets me be me

When she walks away and the spotlight dims

I open the curtains 

And the whole stage ligths up

With purples and blues

With reds and oranges 

The stage is alive with color and the freedom of expression

I can move in any way I want

I can change my direction and fall into any color 

I can be who I want be

I can leap and run and dance 

But when I hear the balcony doors open

And the foot steps before she gets to her seat

I close the curtains

And stand in the place of the spotlight

Of what my mom thinks