I can feel their eyes staring up at me,
Examining my every feature and gesture,
Their eyes squint and wander around my appearance.
They do not think I know what they are doing,
But I know...
I know...
It sets my heart-a-burning and my hands
To sit clasped tightly in my lap,
My eyes slightly squinting and watching
Them as they analyze me like an abstract piece of art.

Anything I say, comes from the reserve in the back of my mind,
So I may concentrate on these curious persons in all their doubts
Of the reliability of my words.
"I don't see it."
"I know, I don't look it."
"Really, she is your real mother?"
"Yes," I say laughing nervously.

Still their eyes remain fixed on me,
Hoping I will tell them it was all a joke,
So that they will be relieved that all they learned
About science and nature can remain
Just as solid as it was before.

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