they say you look just like your father
and yet I still try to copy my mother
her movements and her thoughts
I try to like the same things she loves

I can't be so brave as is she,
and yet she is everything I always wanted to be.
I carry in me the rage of my  father
and the uspoken words of my mother

I am my mother’s daughter.
I carry the bag with all her unfulfilled dreams.
I wipe her imaginary tears
and help to cook her meals

And yet still, I am an awful cooker.
I get ***** each one of my dresses.
She just smiles about everything I messes—
instead of me, you should look at her.

I would sell my soul for her happiness,
ask for anything and it's yours.
I just want the wrinkles on her face
to be caused by a smile.