There are too many instances of your hovering addiction. I know that you feel more quelled in that liquid of entrapment, but these metal walls that make up your shelter bring cold to the skin of your seeds.
Perhaps you never wanted to succeed, because your upbringing had already given you a vision of failure, but don’t you know that your presence is greater than the reach of a hand? We might have desires of a wealthier life but we’ll always feel more sacred in the curl of your arms.
My loving mother, it was never your fault, you fell into the pit that was built to impoverish our people. All it took was one sip and now you’re just a sinking ship.
It’s ironic that they flaunt this air-con of intoxication these days. The youth that were only taught pride from the brim of the bottle have now all passed over to the brink that hinders greatness.
My loving mother, you were never the accomplice of this negligence, you were merely a pawn in a board of racial degradation. Even though the chronic toxicity might not forgive you, we will never forsake you.
Tell us: What do you think of the authors mother and is it relatable to you and your mother?