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I weep for the daughters with outstretched arms in anticipation of their mothers love, left in perpetual wait.

Daughters who navigate their youth alone, silently because their words were mostly met with hate.

Battling against the cycles of pain that span generations.

Trying to build homes on crumbling foundations.

The daughters of broken daughters;

Granddaughters of broken grandmothers;

Me parte el corazón saber que el amor de una madre no esta garantizado.

Que ahi madres que quieren dar amor, pero la luz del corazón ya esta apagado.

Y que a veces el amor de una madre puede ser veneno.

De un corazón contaminado, endurecido mas en brazos ajeno.