I was made to hate the butterfly
The fluttering , gorgeous colourful thing
I was bruised,for I craved a sweet and cake
To love and receive was claustrophobic
So I suffer today ,with pessimism hovering around
Some thirty odd years passed,I am a mother too now
A Surprise awaits ,I am full of compassion
I love my son ,I will not abuse
Vent out frustrations to make him a inhuman
The phone rang, "Happy six months to your lovely son" ,and I jumped in ecstasy
I am human ,I don't abuse ,I am full of love and affection.
Realisation is engulfed,my mind is syncing with varied emotions.