Can’t Be Your Fault [REV.]

Every time I try to tell you something first-hand
you make me stop; you don’t want to hear the
details of whatever I’m proselytising - yet you
insist I read newspaper articles you like - and
watch your pet TV programmes with you

Now why should I ever desire to see and hear
things recommended by you - you’ve refused
to hear what actually interests me; sometimes
you condescend to kindly ask why I’m so quiet,
sanctimoniously adding - feel free to talk!

Oh well, no reason to complain while you take
good care of the house & help with routine jobs,
preparing dishes to die for; & of course nobody
should be talking about their thoughts when one
considers the nonsense presented in dramas

And storybook dialogues - I’ve never mastered
the art of small-talk and since books & theories
aren’t acceptable subjects, I’ve nothing to say;
you find whatever details insufferably tedious
and perfidious - it just can’t be your fault that

My mind feels dead inside…