I know you know me, you understand me in ways no one else can. I’m your daddy’s girl, always at your side, worshipping the very essence of you. Who am I, if not a part of your divine being, an embodiment of love that God calls “mommy”? I know you see me, and I know you understand me deeply, even when words fall short.
I watch you in pain, and I feel helpless, drowning in sorrow for you. You hide your suffering behind the words, “I’m okay, don’t worry,” but I see through them. To the doctors and nurses, you’re just another patient, yet your endurance divides my soul into fragments, breaking me with each passing moment.
I remember you wiping away my tears, your touch and embrace soothing my fears. But now, the arms that once held me are pierced by pain, and I feel the weight of your suffering. I long for the stick you once used to guide me, as if to take me back to those simpler days, before this world weighed you down.
I feel unshed tears in my soul, tears you wipe away with your trembling hands. My smile, a mere mask to disguise the agony I carry, yet you understand its gravity. It doesn’t matter whether you hear my cries or not—I love you. I love you so much, more than words can express, and I know you feel the same.
In the dead of night, in this haunting melancholy, I see you: simple clothes, grey hair, and a fragile body. Just once, I wish you would caress my hair again, sing that lullaby, and immerse me in the depths of your love. You know how weak I’ve become, how difficult it is to bear the weight of these decisions. I am breaking, yet I still try to glue the pieces of our broken relations together, struggling to hold on.
For I am just a feeble part of your divine entity, and I know, deep down, you still know and understand me—more than anyone else ever could.