In the mind of my mother
dishes are cleaned and neatly stacked
all on her account.
His dress shirts are washed and neatly pressed
in great, abundant amounts.
In the mind of me
the chores calender hangs on the fridge for everyone to see
each day is crossed and checked and marked
back to him, then me.
In the mind of my mother
she is the ash tray where he lays his cigarette down
burnt out
worn down
stopping for a rest.
In the mind of me
I am the cigarette, he constantly reaches for
addictive
powerful
dangerous.
In the mind of my mother
she paints on her smile
and puts on her evening pearls,
how neatly she sits, and smooths out her pleats
with her perfect ringlet curls.
In the mind of me
I throw on my sweatpants and sigh,
plopping down on the couch.
How good he is, he listens to my day,
Get this mom! I'm aloud to slouch!
In the mind of my mother
she is a trophy case
neatly arranged and perfectly polished
sometimes he stops to admire.
But in the mind of me
I am a circus
he stares in awestruck, watching my tricks and flips,
juggling the fire.
In the mind of my mother
she is not a slave, just a wife
but I think she is insane.
In the mind of me
I'm not there to serve him, I am his princess
Long may I reign