She was sitting next to where you lie, mother, all black, serious, and still.
I wanted to ask the traitor the same questions you would have–why she wasn’t around while you were still alive; when you needed to snuggle with her; when you cried for her all night?
But then, she had been out pursuing lord-knows-what.
Now, she finds the time to sit next to where you lie, mother, after you closed those beautiful eyes and left to pursue lord-knows-what; all teary-eyed and seeking forgiveness for neglecting you for all those lonely years; bringing fresh flowers; trying to take my place in your lap.
You could hardly blame me for scratching her face. I wish I had taken out her eyes…but they looked so much like your own.
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