Is that you'll never cross off the whole list
There's always one more thing to do
Some mystery to solve, a cosmic clue
Every hair needs to be neatly in place
Not a trace of dust or mess in my space
All the dishes done, and the laundry too
Every weed pulled, bills paid, nothing due
Books all proofread, not a single mistake
Everyone thinks you're authentic, but feel like a fake
The occasional smile after a “How are you?”
Not revealing the truth, if they only knew
The depth of my anxiety, how I drown in fear
The shaking of my heart as I hold back my tears
Not thinking that I'm good enough, falling short
Making long-term plans, only then to abort
Business plans, projects, good intentions
So many ideas, too many to mention
Many a million-dollar idea not realized
Many a cherished dream that once I prized
