Broken. Or tired. I'm not sure.
I couldn't love them any more.
Any more than I already do.
Words are funny things too.

I yearn for the energy to play
All day with my loves. Just play
With a happy, energetic heart. 
Yet here I struggle at the start
Just to be present and chirpy
To have the patience of thirty

I feel abandoned at the helm
No help just looks of overwhelm
As if it's my job to do everything
And then some. And flailing
As I am, is met with disappointment
An ask for help fills with judgement

It is I who must always work
Be strong and never shirk
Any of my 'responsibilities'
For I am mother, wife, house.