Some Days

Some Days
I wonder if my grandmother is proud of me
I guess that she would smile
Or maybe she would shamelessly stare
As if I really was the disappointment.

Some days
I think about what my mother said
I need to make something out of myself.
Perhaps she didn't need to worry
Maybe I was supposed to be the disappointment.

Some days
I wonder what you think of me
I guess that you don't.
Or maybe I am wrong
Maybe you think I'm not the disappointment.