Mama, I cannot defeat you.
I cannot even fight you.
You are …. the master
and I am only an insignificant grain.
Though, even if I could,
how could I? you are my mama!
But I never surrender.
I declared you flower war.
I defeat you with my kindness and compassion,
my beauty through my deeds, my good heartedness.
I avenge all your cruelties with my forgiveness,
with an “unforgiving heart” who denies its very self to avenge,
to take you where vengeance has no merit or meaning
but shame!
This way avenging you I don’t drown in murk,
I free myself by implanting the most polychromatic fragrances
in my soul yards.
Mama, I did that to baba too.
your deepest regret is my ultimate vengeance.
The vengeance that like a moth
so brilliantly burns itself
to get rid of the itch of its existence.
