by Nick Gisburne
Their daughter is a disappointing stain
Upon the pure traditions of the past.
She listens, as they patiently explain
Her modern, wicked ways will never last.
Conventional, respectable, refined,
The standards of the family are set,
But she, a rebel, restless, fills her mind
With fantasies they tell her to forget.
Their final ultimatum breaks the chains;
She will not be a slave to such demands.
No love, no longing, nothing now remains,
A silence she already understands.
Her world becomes a brighter, bigger place.
For them, it is a dungeon of disgrace.
