No one knows the weight of a mother’s sin.
You couldn’t possibly fathom the pain I’ve had to bear.
Would you ever survive the shame I cannot share.
You can’t possibly know the kind of hell I’ve been in.

Don’t tell me I have no conscience.
My guilt goes beyond my grave.
If only it were that easy, my daughter to save.
My heart, twisted in its shape, by the weight of the wrongness.

No one knows the weight of my sins.
The burden I bear through guilt, fear and depression. All as a result of my lover’s rejection.
You cannot know the pain I bear, my tears would fill containers and bins.

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My daughter lost for fear of social rejection.
The pain of seeing her withdraw further and further behind a shell.
All I wanted was that picket fence and big yard perfection.
My daughter through her rebellion creating yet another form of hell.

You couldn’t possibly be able to see what my lover did to her.
You wouldn’t know what his grunts, her cries did to my soul.
In a 3 bed-roomed house one would think that you’d be able to ignore such sounds over running water.
And yet all of it I heard like a silent but potent fart, ripe and foul.

No, no one knows the weight of a mother’s sin.
It was my failure alone to turn that bastard in.
My fear of a lack of consumer goods entitled me to a front row seat.
While the beast of hell feasted on my daughter’s innocent sacred meat.

And now I await with equal fear,
the toll of the bell for my daughter.
It was my foolishness that led us here.
She slit her wrists and lay in a tub of water.