When i was a kid,
When i cry my mother comforted me.
When i want to sleep she ussualy beck me,
When i am hungry she could give me food.
But as i grew up,
Things are different now.
If i do anything similar to what i used to do,
Hiiiiiiiiiiii my God.
Instead of comfort me when i cry,
She take a steak to beat me, Thus shutting me up.
If i sleep she leaves me in the Kicthen.
If i am hungry,
She just points some pots for me.
If their is no ready food,
She just ask me if i know where she keep the stuff.
That shows me that i am old enough to look for myself.
If she continues doing everything for,
She will be killing me.
Happy i am mature out of her tactical trainning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If she continues doing everything for, She will be killing me. yes very true.... maturity comes when our mothers and dads tactically play with us by denying sometimes and we learn to stand on our own legs........ like this theme very much dear poet. tony
Dear Dr. Brahmin You are most welcome, much appreciated. Thank you for giving the reasons to continue writing.