~
He and I are parasites. We take and take, but never give back. We got her a new sweater. Is that enough? We got her the lipstick she's been wanting. Is that enough? We got her a dozen red roses. Is that enough?
No, it's not. It'll never be enough.
But how do you repay the woman who has given you the world?
The stress consumes her. It eats her alive. I hate it when she's angry. She's not careful with things. She breaks a mug a friend gave me and yells at me for crying. "Don't you dare cry!" She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
Then she gets frustrated when I cry harder. She starts throwing things everywhere and breaking more things. "The house is a mess, the house is a mess! You guys should just make more of a mess everyday like this!" The house isn't a mess. She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
She goes upstairs and watches TV as he and I clean the house. She comes down to an almost spotless house and makes a mess again, throwing things everywhere. "Make more messes, make more messes. Do this everyday!" She doesnt mean it, shes just stressed.
And then she runs upstairs and paces back and forth in the hallway. "I might as well die. Someone kill me. Someone kill me now!" She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
But now she sits on my queen sized bed in my lilac room at the front of the house, sobbing as I hold her tight and hum songs in her ear that she'll never remember. But I cannot help her.
I owe her the world.
But I can give her nothing.
No, it's not. It'll never be enough.
But how do you repay the woman who has given you the world?
The stress consumes her. It eats her alive. I hate it when she's angry. She's not careful with things. She breaks a mug a friend gave me and yells at me for crying. "Don't you dare cry!" She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
Then she gets frustrated when I cry harder. She starts throwing things everywhere and breaking more things. "The house is a mess, the house is a mess! You guys should just make more of a mess everyday like this!" The house isn't a mess. She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
She goes upstairs and watches TV as he and I clean the house. She comes down to an almost spotless house and makes a mess again, throwing things everywhere. "Make more messes, make more messes. Do this everyday!" She doesnt mean it, shes just stressed.
And then she runs upstairs and paces back and forth in the hallway. "I might as well die. Someone kill me. Someone kill me now!" She doesn't mean it, she's just stressed.
But now she sits on my queen sized bed in my lilac room at the front of the house, sobbing as I hold her tight and hum songs in her ear that she'll never remember. But I cannot help her.
I owe her the world.
But I can give her nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment