Such a sweet cherishing bond—

Such sweet, nourishing charisma

A mother has for her own.

 

It is like God himself greeting you,

At the Gates of Heaven,

When a mother holds her child.

 

A mother is one who provides an egg,

A womb,

And then after child-birth,

She has two steel shields to protect her kin.

 

A mother is one who provides,

Protects and loves her offspring.

For she must heavily shelter—

For now, she is the one responsible

Of another life.

To foster first over her precious own life.

 

Why? Oh, why?

Why would one who conceives,

Labors,

And goes through pregnancy pains,

Leave behind a bond so dear?

A bond the baby did not ask to be created,

But rather, a precious curse thrown upon her.

 

Wait—

For I am cursed;

That is the answer.

Mother birthed me a bastard!

 

Mother did not wish to be a mother—

She wished to enjoy her teen years—

Mother wanted her own life!

But I did not want this either;

Do I not have a say to this curse!?

 

Such a sweet, cherishing, nurturing bond—

But what could be sweeter?

Heroin.

Heroin is sweeter;

It must be the brown sugar.

 

Heroin loves and nurtures you—

Now and forever.

Because you left something behind:

The sweetest bond you’ve ever had.