she was only 12
when it happened
she was bitter, cried, rolled herself against the ground
seeking for comfort and refuge
but the only refuge she found was in her pen
"mother,
i never thought that a time will come when we will bid each other goodbye
it was too soon
even before the rising of the sun
or the descending of the new moon
thanks for giving your life for me
even though i thought you were mean
you gave me a reason to smile
and i will take it to a different mile
i will forever keep a song in my heart
bring down the blazing flames of hate
and love till the ending of my fate"
this is a letter of a motherless child
to her dead mum.
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
she was only 12
when it happened
she was bitter, cried, rolled herself against the ground
seeking for comfort and refuge
but the only refuge she found was in her pen
"mother,
i never thought that a time will come when we will bid each other goodbye
it was too soon
even before the rising of the sun
or the descending of the new moon
thanks for giving your life for me
even though i thought you were mean
you gave me a reason to smile
and i will take it to a different mile
i will forever keep a song in my heart
bring down the blazing flames of hate
and love till the ending of my fate"
this is a letter of a motherless child
to her dead mum.
sometimes i always feel that the only thing that seems to listen to what am saying is my pen and paper
