They all see what she wants them to see. They can’t see the darkness inside. They can’t see the wounds that she gave herself. Wounds that she always hides. She fixes dinner, prays for release, and rolls over when it’s over cause she’s just another broken housewife.
She’s defective straight out of the box. She gets her happiness from a bottle. Just another pill down the shoot, then another, then another. She tucks the kids in, and does her very best to hold it all together for them. But she’s unraveling at the seams. She wants nothing more than to please cause she’s just another broken housewife.
No one can see her tears. No one can hear her screams. No one is there to care for her wounds. The black and blue patches that litter her skin. She’s good at hiding everything. She’s so good at holding everything in cause she’s just another broken housewife.