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My life.
Folder:
January - June 2008 How many fairytales can I recite?
Do you believe you're right
when you try to make me scream?
Snide comments in the back of the room,
When I'm cooking your food,
Waking up at 4am only to rise at 5
begin my day and viciously carve a smile...
Is it worthwhile?
Can you even see
the fucking mess you've made with me?
But it's okay for you,
You get to live and breathe,
watching me deal with the shit you deem
'unworthy' of your attention.
You call it 'everyday', 'mundane', my 'housewife duties',
It's my life and he's my son;
Why the fuck should you care though, right?
I'm all your fault.
