Kindly trade your voice in exchange for my happiness, my child.

For motherhood is a cold and barren place, filled with nothing but loneliness and regrets. The warmth I was promised with is but a sweet nothing.

You see my child; my mother too left me with an emptiness waiting to be filled.
I was lured by the premise of a faraway place where this heart of mine shall never stop feeling full, a beautiful garden of roses. But alas; thorns and crimson colours akin to blood were all I found.

But not to worry, you too shall have your turn at happiness, my child.

Maybe not now, nor soon, but maybe in the distant future – for you too has been left with the same emptiness in your heart as me. You too shall be seduced by the same warmth i was once promised; a desperate yearning for happiness.

It is not yet your turn.

And so for now, just let me have mine.