Why don’t you realize I’ve loved you for years?
Why can’t you see with your chains I rebel?
How come your unhappiness brings me to tears?
Why, when I climb, do you say that I fell?

Why don’t you understand as children we wed?
Why do you have a need to keep me below?
How come you don’t believe when "I love you," I said?
Why instead do you fear as I continue to grow?

Why can’t we be happy, growth taken in stride?
Why must I cave in to you for you to rejoice?
How come you can’t love what I’ve become, with pride?
Why must I scream for you to hear my voice?

Why don’t you see your own climb as well?
Why must you look upon mine as a threat?
How come it seems we do this in hell?
Why not together instead, hand in hand yet?

© Kathee Tschudy, July 12, 1997.