The lego of my motherhood,
was made of blocks of various sizes.
The base ones were of wonder
In the name of love.
Bigger ones made windows
Of patience and perseverance.
Few blocks of identity I lost
While building up the sacrifices.
And there were few of ego,
Which blocked the hunger of my heart.
And that’s when your lunchbox
Became the air filling machine,
To my idea of motherhood.
But I failed, when the lego fell into parts.
When you could no longer decide,
Which was heavier?
The school bag or my expectations.
You committed suicide.
And left me thinking,
How I wronged our equation.
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