The Worst Mother

All I wanted is to see the best for her, but never did she listen. She loved him, but I, I never wanted them to be. I wanted her to get what she deserved. To get her body’s worth. Love is a thing that sees not with the mind but with the heart. I’ve learnt that. I’ve learnt it from the worst mother.
      One that tries her very best to make us proud. To make us not feel inferior. She gave me what I’m now writing on; she gave me where I’m now feeling comfortable. An education that I’m now receiving, the clothes that I’m now wearing, the books that I have, the money that sometimes I don’t need, all those things that a single parent could and is giving.. What more do I want. Maybe I want to be mistreated, or maybe, just maybe I want nothing because I have what I need. A child, a child that cries. Cries upon the womb of her mother. Cry because somehow this mother seems to be the worst.
          Worst because she gives me love, and I want more. But what more can I child want than the love of her mother. What more can a child receive than the warmth and care her mother gives. Am I worth it? No! And I’m now crying. Crying because I’ve hurt the breast that had fed me. I’m crying because the story has started, and all that I’ve said about the worst mother, I know that all would want to have. Crying because there’s guilt in me.
          What if somehow I loose her? What if I never get a chance to tell her I’m sorry? And what if she dies thinking I don’t love her and that she’s the worst? What if she’s thinking that she’s doing nothing? Just what if? What if I’m making her cry?? Tears from these eyes are burning my face. I wonder if hers are killing her.
      You must be asking why I am referring to her as being the worst mother. This is because I over heard her saying that she is the worst, as I told her so. But, but like the night telling the day it’s not bright and not doing its duty, I am ungrateful. There! I’ve said it. I know not how to embrace her love. But I...