Beginning
There's this song that I loathe the most.
"Can you please sing it to us?"
My sister often ask her to sing that song. It's sort of became her lullaby. I never, not once, liked it.
Come stop your crying, it'll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight.
I cover my ears everytime Mama sang it. Sam's bed was near mine so I have no choice but to cover my ears.
Her voice was always gentle, soft, and sweet. It was always what passed through my ears no matter how hard I press my hand to my ear to stop me from hearing her voice. Sam would think that if Mama would sing, she loves her. That's when she felt she's loved by her
You'll be in my heart.....
I saw the pain she inflicted upon us. I saw her left and never looked back. For another man, for her happiness. Selfish is what I can describe her.
A pain worse than my anger, I felt it. Worse than anything I felt tragic. It was agonizing. Then it became me.
She inflicted pain, I made it my destruction.
I blame it all on her.
I must be mad to hate my own mother that in the end, I chose to blame myself for being like her.
Selfish woman. I was her. The exact replica.