The Weight of Worlds

She wears a smile, a painted mask of cheer,
While waves of chaos crash behind her ear.
The dishes pile, the laundry overflows,
But smiles are cheap, and no one ever knows.

They see the perfect wife, the mother strong,
Who cooks and cleans and sings a happy song.
They see the PTA queen, the soccer mom,
But never see the cracks beneath the calm.

The weight of expectations, crushing stone,
A never-ending list, a life alone.
She dreams of sleep, of silence, just a breath,
A moment stolen from the jaws of death.

At night, she weeps, the tears she cannot hide,
As shadows dance where dreams and hopes have died.
She craves the moon, a sliver of escape,
From endless tasks, an overwhelming drape.

They ask, "Why distant? Why the vacant stare?"
Unaware of burdens she alone must bear.
They offer platitudes, and empty cheer,
But cannot mend the heart that's drowning here.

For mothers hold a secret in their core,
A silent storm, a battle fought unseen, to war.
With tiny hands and hungry, endless needs,
They fight for sanity, plant fragile seeds.

So judge her not, the woman with the smile,
Whose eyes hold oceans, vast and wild.
For in her heart, a silent truth resides,
The weight of worlds, unseen, where no one guides.

She is a warrior, cloaked in apron strings,
A fragile dove with clipped and wounded wings.
So offer grace, a hand to hold and mend,
And in her eyes, you'll see the storm descend.

For mothers hold the world within their gaze,
A love so fierce, it burns in endless ways.
And though they drown, they fight to keep afloat,
For tiny lives, their reason, and their vote.

So let her rest, beneath the moonlit sky,
And in her silence, hear the lullaby.
For mothers hold a strength the world may miss,
A hidden storm, a mother's silent kiss.