mother knows worst

every day
tears my heart
to shreds
every day
i some how manage
to survive
even though i long
to just lie down
& not get up again
could there possibly be
anything harder
than being a mother
& seeing the worst of yourself
broadcast by innocents
as you try so fucking hard
to be your best for them…
but it seems
no matter how hard you try
to be beautiful for them
it’s the ugly bits they pick up
it’s the ugly bits they collect
as if it is their purpose
to only mirror
the you
you wish you weren’t.

i had an identity crisis when i became a mom. i didn’t want to be my mom, i didn’t know how to be me, i was grasping for who i was supposed to be (i even got a mom bob and wore capris for a bit.)
looking back,
as a fictional mom, i was doing pretty good…as a mother.
but i was betraying who i was inside.
and eventually motherhood started to destroy me.
a battle ensued.
i think it might still be going on.
so i gave up on being the perfect mom. i tried to find balance.
being a mom and being myself.
it’s an ongoing thing. like everything else. a work in progress. maybe one day i will know what it feels like to feel content with myself as a mother and as a human being.
maybe.

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profundity

no one is as sad
as me
no one is as lonely
as i am
a pain so profound
i feel as if i can pick it up
& hold it in my hand
a disease
so contagious
i feel as if there is no way
i cannot
inflict it upon those
i love
best.

psychotic plunking on a xylophone

i forgot what i wanted to say
or maybe i said it already?
poetry in my mind is gone
by the time i find a pen
pictures in my head
won’t translate to the paper
like all i can do
is fuck it up
trying to write
to draw
the magical music in my ear
but all i manage
is the psychotic plunking
of a xylophone
i’d be a genius
if i knew what i was
trying to
say.