I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I play dolls with my old self and she catches me dripping blood.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I sing songs of death with the ghosts in my bathroom and she can hear through aluminium door.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. I sit on the edge of my bedroom and whispered to my best friend, but she only watches and eyes glint of sorrow.

I THINK MY MAMA knows that I am suffering. But she keeps quiet and cooks for my meal.

I THINK MY MAMA is afraid of me and my ghosts. She doesn't want to talk about my sorrow and pain, afraid that my blood will splash her long white dress.