He was the first I told of my afflictions
It must be love, mummy’s little girl told herself
Confusion whence the thoughts are repeated
Break the heart, pick it up; sigh,monotonous exhaustion,drop it
It must be perseverance mother’s bosom comforted
There is no greater agony than feeling lonely when in love
It must be you never him, you’ve always expected too much, mother’s shoulders will carry you
We do not speak the same language
It must b that your language is too demanding, momma raised a translator
“He is perfect for you, hence it must be you ruining everything”!
Fundamental thoughts planted by a misguided love.