She gave her birth,

breathed life into her.

Fed,

caressed,

soothed,

punished.

Comforted again.

She got her to believe in all things unreal or what seemed real.

But today, child’s grown enough to be self-reliant.

She needs no womb,

no feeds, nor caresses.

Her own strength guides her,

and she forms her own beliefs.

Mother still holds on to her child.

Child’s moved to a different system,

where unreal is real,

and real is differently defined.

Come back child, yearns Mother.

As unreal as my world may seem to you, it is filled with love.

Come back child, I long to hug you.

Come let me hear your voice.

Come see me see your beautiful face.

Come back my child, I wish to start over.

Come back, I need to breathe new life into you.