Mother, I was made for better things;
these tender wings you’ve given me have died.
Mother, it’s precisely you that I’ve betrayed—
I’ve given up your dreams for mine.
And after all this time, you’ve given up your heart for me.
All the bittersweet memories of a time that you’ve forgot.
I’ve strayed too far from your love.
They said God would punish me,
a tender girl not yet thirteen,
as I looked and smiled at the girls of school.
How was I to know what’s wrong with that?
Who were you to deny the true sense of my soul?
Oh...and they told me I’d get married someday,
a tender lad would take me away.
And as I looked inside myself—
I felt so alone.
Who was this prince charming to be?
Could it be a girl not yet twenty-three?
The school mistress would look at me and sigh:
“That’ll be enough questions today.