The crease in her forehead?
‘Twas I.
The marks that stretch upon the length of her abdomen?
‘Twas I.
The headaches, stress, high blood pressure, the worrying, the heart problems, the vocal chords stressing and straining, the hands growing weak after every swat:
‘Twas I.
‘Twas I who let my mother drown
In her own tears.
‘Twas I who let the fire from her rage
Burn her body alive.
‘Twas I who plucked the eyes that held the innocent picture of me.
‘Twas I who gave her back pains from stepping on all those cracks.
‘Twas I who let my mother age and old with dust
‘Twas I who made her smile, her laugh, rust
‘Twas I who watched her soul and heart be
Murdered by the next guy, and the next guy,
And the next guy, and the next guy, and the next guy,
And the next guy, and the next guy, and the next guy,
And the next….