A Reason- Billy Collins Poem

It keeps hounding me in my mind.
That voice that sounds eerily like my mother
With a bit more judgment thrown in
For good measure.

It thrives on guilt,
Poking like a sliver stuck in your sock
At that soft part of me
That I already have doubts about.
It gets to me.

Cleaning
Baking
Drinking
All at once.
I’m doing all I can to ignore her.

Ooops, I mean it.

There’s a reason I don’t keep a gun in the house.