Mother Banshee

What is this in the mirror that I see?
A mother of two that I did not want to be.
I wanted to be a mother for sure,
But now this task I can not endure.

I scream and shout all the day long.
A screaming banshee gone wrong.
How is it that I have become
That terrible, horrible mum,
Whom I disapprovingly wish to stop

Scolding their child in the shop?

To myself I want to say,

That I’ll never talk to my child that way,
But that vow lays long since broken,
Harsh words to my children I have spoken.
Now when I glance upon a mother banshee,
My only thought is, that is me.

What damage do I inflict,
When my ugly shouts I do evict,
Straight into the ears of my little brats,
During our eternal spats?

All that remains when this is done,
Is guilt, self loathing and the urge to run.
Perhaps I should never have procreated,
For as a mother, I am poorly rated.