I've witness the mess ive grown and watch you become. From a home sick child , of these words i now speak of Mum.
For mother, of course, she is as beautiful as ever.
Yet of retchard man and those amonst us , within their mind thought clever live to enslave us and more sickening in madness, seek to control dear mother.
Mother is the earth on which we made our world. Our world yes for we built upon her very heaven our horrific hell.
She recieves us never to say no. The freedom for her, she give the same freedom to us.
We move on her freely as we glide through the same space. For we share our lives and live with the very same constraints.
We are not born without her. She suffers us from birth at that very moment we enter unto her.
And in death she embraces us as we are buried to then rott in her.
We ignore her just like we ignore the fact of this to each other. In all of this we hear only.