Mom,

Yesterday, I examined stitches on your stomach,

Ugly and unattractive,

Thousands of freckles own your face,

Mom. Nowadays, the light of your eyes is dependent on contacts,

Amma,

Why my cheeks encounter roughness of your palms these days,

Why your wishes are always misplaced in twisted lies and smiles,

Why my irrelevant needs are always relevant in your eyes,

Why your eyes shed tears when I cry,

Why your arms are always ready to embrace me,

Even when I’m wrong,

Why your pain is always yours, and my pain is always yours as well,

Amma,

Whenever, I stand in front of my mirror,

I encounter your shades in my eyes,

You’ve traded your wishes and necessities,

In lieu of my happiness,

I can never match you maa,

I salute you,

And your sacrifices, love and devotion.

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