good girl

I'm a good girl.

I paint my nails, get good grades, please my parents, have discipline.

I make sure my ducks are all in a row, all straight and right side up because I am a good girl.

I go to school, push in my chair, say please and thank you, have manners,

I follow the rules, always lay my hair nice, curl my lashes, have perfect posture because I am a good girl.

A good girl. Yes, a good girl.

A good girl is expected to stay perfect when the world around her is crumbling.

A good girl is supposed to know she must wear waterproof mascara incase she dares to cry.

A good girl does not let temptation ruin her reputation.

A good girl knows how to stay perfect.

I am not perfect anymore, mom.

I cannot keep my ducks in a line along with my crack cocaine.

I cannot lay my hair nice if I can't stop ripping it out when I hear the word alcohol, remembering the night he touched me.

I cannot get good grades when the only "A" I know is "AA."

I cannot be a good girl anymore.

I cannot fulfill all these obligations while I'm on probation.

I cannot be your good girl anymore, mom.