The Fussy One

A fussy child
Struggles against
Her mother's hold.

"Shush," she says,
Ignoring the people behind her.
"Be a good child."

The crowd becomes a blur,
While her child screams
When she should be quiet as an angel.

In white,
She looks so pure,
But her cries are loud.

The mother looks on,
As her child attempts to get away,
Asking only, "Why do you hate me?"