Crayons melted on the heater,
paint is in the sink.
She acts as though she's got this,
at least that's what you think.
She never gives just one complaint,
not a harsh word from her lips.
Forever she will clean your mess,
even when it kills her hips.
After eighteen years, you'll never know,
just how much she gave.
That's just the way she wants it though,
she'll take it to her grave.
🧡Shine Bright, Kayla
Originally published in It's Not Poetry: The Innermost Thoughts of A Stressed-Out Housewife by Kayla Tackett. February 2022