Tears fall down my cheeks as I recall the turn of events that day. Oh, how sorrow fills my heart when I remember the way my daughter tossed me out. Using harsh words you wouldn't even tell an enemy. Was I that bad of a mother? I watched her like a hawk I'll admit that. But, I protected her. I loved her like no other mother could. My only survivor out of six. She was born strong and healthy but, remained lonely. I tried my best to comfort her through my long hours of work. I was never comfortable with her socializing with other people too much but, I allowed her. That's when she changed. Her attitude. Her clothes. Her identity. I felt as if I didn't know her anymore. But, I still loved her. When I looked at her face I longed to see the little girl that had an obsession with flowers and jewels. But, to no avail. She seemed to be locked away. Under hatred, pain, and sorrow. To her, I'm dead. To me she's a lost soul. Waiting to be found. To her, I'm gone. Dead and gone. Cold and alone. I'm slowly dying inside.