A Lonely Prayer

A Mother’s Sentiments

“You’ve got it all
You lost your mind in the sound
There’s so much more
You can reclaim your crown
You’re in control
Rid of the monsters inside your head
Put all your faults to bed
You can be king”
King by Lauren Aquilina

I closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Reading this poem always made me feel a bit hopeful. Maybe one day I could be as strong as the character inside this poem. Maybe one day even I could be so strong that no matter what happened I would be able to bear through it, unnerved.

I started.

“Some dreams aren’t meant to become reality. Some realities aren’t meant to be so comforting. Life is harsh and that’s a fact. But the struggle that we choose to do to attain success is our own decision and our own choice. People can surely influence us but remember that your actions are your own. Consenting to them or not is another story, but you have to own up to your actions and be responsible for the consequences that come with them.”

I looked through the window.

“And sometimes… the best way to succeed is to have a heart of stone; which is so impenetrable that it lets nothing in or out. But know well and know now, a heart of stone shall always fail after a point for its core isn’t empathy or sympathy: it’s yourself trying to block everything and anything from ever coming close to you.”

My eyes shifted to the roof.

“On the other hand, a kind heart, which is so frail that it will give out any second… also, has the power to succeed. So you, my child have to be strong. No matter what happens, always be sympathetic, empathetic, have a strong heart to bear any sins that you do, to pave your way through all struggles you need to face but also be able to receive love and love someone else. Because remember. A heart may be a weak organ which is frail and falters but it also holds the power to change humans from the core.

It’s those with the kindest hearts who have the warmest embrace which strikes chords with other individuals and compels change, towards a good side.

Oh, I think this was a bit confusing, let me-”

I looked at my son sleeping peacefully by my side. Once more he had a nightmare and he had come snuggled in with me. I smirked a little, musing to myself when he’d be able to understand what this poem meant and when he’d understand all that I spoke.

I prayed that he develops a heart as kind as me, and not like his father:


Well, that’s a story for another time.

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