I watched you as you grew, you watched me as I worked. I didn't lose anything, I didn't give anything up. Everything I've ever done, I've done knowing it would be best for you. I've not lost a thing, and I gained you. I am who you call mama, you are who I call my child. I don't own you, you are not me, you grow to be whoever you want to become, isn't that lovely?
Now that you've grown to work for as long as I have, you watch me as I descend in my final room eight feet under. Now, as I see you, I see the best I could've ever had. My only wish is that you think the same of yourself.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories (reconstructed)
ContoThis is a reconstructed anthology of the randomly generated stories I had in mind during 2015. (Read segment title for the list of unsettling content in each category)
