Don’t ask too many questions

It’d be easier if you don’t ask too many questions.
I don’t get irritated by the many intrusions,
I worry that I don’t have all the answers.
And while they tell you that you need not know everything.
I worry that I will never know anything, at all.
I worry that I won’t have the right words to say at the right time.
So I sit on Sunday afternoons, dreading Monday mornings,
Wondering and worrying about words said, words unsaid.
Should I have been kinder to my father?
After a long day’s work?
Should I have listened to my mother?
Instead of assuming malafides.
I get stuck in the awful circle of should-would and stay ashamed.
Which is why, it’d be easier if you’d talk but not ask too many questions.
I don’t have the answers and I can’t seem to tell you that.

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