IN MEMORY OF SOMEONE WHO LOVED ME

My mother died when I was 27.
She loved me.
Her only child: to her last breath.

She walked alone – silently – to her grave.
Everyone walks alone.
But few realize.

Life is just a corridor to death.

Being is just the mirror of nothingness.

Remembering is just as ephemeral as forgetting.

I feel forsaken like the entire universe.
Like the stars that light our sky.
Like this planet.

Ammu. I need a hug. Just one.

6:00 AM

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