And even when I hold my head high,

with the stars within my reach,

I hear the disappointment in your voice.

And even when I’ve escaped the mess in my mind,

leading a life with some idea of purpose,

I see the sadness in your eyes.

And even when I’ve stopped wishing for death,

with an aim to heal the wounds in my soul,

I sense the retaliation in your words.

But mum, even with over ten thousand miles between us,

and a short phone call once a month,

I catch the hope in your hello.

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