I love you mummy. Not because you are good or kind but unconditionally because you are my mummy.
Dead. Murdered. Slain. Slashed. Scared. Tortured. Dead.
Turn around, open your eyes see what you have done.
Look upon their twisted bodies.
See their eyes rolled back, mad whites drowning in pools of blood.
Howls of pain etched eternally on their little faces.
No more to play carefree games of child hood.
No more laughter. Not more cries of mummy.
You say you can do this, but how, how can you Medea kill this part of you, your children? As you kill their life you pass on yourself a life sentence and I hope you hand in misery for your actions.
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