Who will I be?

The question I ask myself 

hundreds of times a day.

The perfect soccer mom-

mini van 

baked goods 

PTA

Barbie looks with my newly pressed dress

nails done

hair up 

ready for the front page.

The trophy wife-

dinner on the table

waiting eagerly for my lover to walk through the door

cater to their every need

slaving over the hot stove in ninety degree heat 

kids screaming 

mom 

mom 

mom 

all day blaring like trumpets 

in the background.

The perfect daughter-

her shit together

never saying anything out of the way

polite 

content 

never doing wrong 

no past to speak of 

cant get anyone upset.

Or maybe just me-

The mom who tries her best 

yet still feels like a complete failure 

list isn’t done

clothes aren’t perfect

dust on the shelf

stepping on toys

crying in the closet

drinking wine for breakfast

cussing like a sailor

barefoot on the porch

anxiety setting in. 

Giving my all 

but is that enough? 

Seems to be 

but the demon in my head 

screams

no 

no 

no

you’re failing!

Get it right!  

The daughter

the sister

the mother

the friend

trying to prove my life is all together;

yet slipping back 

every chance I get to get ahead. 

Here he goes again.

screaming.

no 

no 

no

you’re failing.

But here I am 

day by day

putting on my perfect society approved costume

just to get by

and fighting like hell

to do the best I can.

I am my own inspiration.

I am the best version I can be.