I do not want it.
I abhor it.
This thing that came to life
To it, all I feel is disgust.
.
I hate it.
Why had it not perished along with the snow.
This thing that makes me remember what had happened,
It makes me vomit, wishing I could excrete it so.
.
So what if it is my flesh and blood.
I see it nothing but a cancer.
Dreams?
My life is ruined thanks to it.
Mother won't say anything.
She know it's futile for I won't obey.