Mother, why do you hate me?
I can barely remember we;
The short walks in puddles,
The little baby cuddles;
But now there is only me.
You are always my mother;
Not alike any other.
Now you turn your head away
When you hear me pray.
To you it does not bother.
It might be the regret;
Those days you were never able to get,
Because you spent your time with your alcohol,
And that baffled me when I was small;
Which only made sister fret.
But I should be the one with guilt,
For the wall I built,
Kept me from saying I love you,
When you were in the queue
For the holy gates to open where you shall never again wilt.
