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Growing up life was tough. My mother told me to go make a difference.  My father told me to make someone cry.

Father never approved of me. Deep down, we know the reason he left. I wish I could deny it. However, I know I am the reason. For 4 weeks my mother cried herself to sleep. Hoping father would come back. I ignored my mother's cries. Knowing I could do nothing to help her. The moment she was born, I became a ghost. Then came the next child. Violet. Pure Violet. Pure Violate. 

We stuck close. Like glue we both need each other. The world hates us.

Mother would tell us no, you're meant to be here, to make the world realize. We all knew how well she loved us. Mother was caring and warm. She was kind and loving. Mother had all the patience in the world. She would hold out her hand. She put everyone aside so we could be happy.

Mother's blood was cold and thick. She was pale and limp.  She still smiled. She still tried to hold out her hand and wipe my tears.

She was dead.

Violet eyesOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora