Dear Mom,
Why's it the older trailers in the ghetto with no air conditioning that remind me of you? Why's it the disappointment in myself that reminds me of you? Why's it the fact that I get angry too quick and I yell too much that remind me of you? I just want to know why I can't remember you by the happiness we used to experience. Why's it always the sad and angry parts of you I remember?
Sincerely,
The son who left.
YOU ARE READING
Without Faith
PuisiThis will mean nothing to most, something to some, and everything to one.
