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Rated: E · Poetry · Women's · #2261723
A poem exploring the plight of a working mother.
It’s bizarre, what I’m thinking right now.
Offbeat, out-of-context, and rebellious.

If I get off at the next station,
I will be met with one option -
to head home.
If I head home,
I would be returning to my mundane life,
the life of a working mother.
There would be dirty dishes in the sink,
And vegetables in the fridge.
And I’ll assume another role -
of a mother, wife, and daughter-in-law.

I don’t know when these thoughts emerged in my mind.
But I can’t discard them now.
Maybe they took hold of me at the office.
Or maybe in the morning when I left for work.
Maybe last night,
When I was helping my son with his homework.

I stare out of the window.
I see the buildings passing by,
the same buildings
that accompanied me to work,
for the past 7 years.
If I skip the next station,
I will have several possibilities.
At least,
I will break out of the loop.

There comes the announcement.
I should be getting up to leave.
But somehow I don’t.
The train stops,
as if it has stopped just for me today.

My legs have frozen.
And I can’t move.
The doors close
and the train starts again.
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