My mother kept whispering sole conversations,
but it was me not talking to her instead;
my mother kept inside her emotions,
but it was me not making her express;
my mother burst out in crying-shouting,
but it was me who let her problems imbed;
my mother was whom I blamed for many things,
but it was me ruining her and my life instead;
my mother was fighting for me,
and it was me giving up instead;
my mother was the only who cared about me,
and it was me who turned passively careless;
my mother was who gave birth to me,
then it was me who never gave her a fine birthday bless.
In Memoriam of the great date of 04.26.1964.