Asking nicely.
I do it again. I can be on time.
I think, I feign.
Telling. Saying. Trying.
Does anybody hear me? Does anyone see me?
Doing. Thinking. Dreading.
How has this become my day?
Do I even have anything to say?
The soft brittle crunch.
The leftover crumbs from lunch.
Their sweet faces smiling back at me.
Their screeching voices yelling look Mom, see!!
This life. This time. This mess. This stuff.
Sometimes I think I’ve had enough.
Breathing. Sighing. Resigning.
Dry hands. Oily hair. Old eyes.
Smiling eyes. Time saved. Helping hands.
Being.
Doing.
Repeat...
Being.
Doing.
Repeat.
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