The white room

I remember when I was born I was brought into a white room.
It was the first moment I learned about colors,
it was the first day that I heard my mother's voice.
I was truly happy, because I didn't know how the world worked.

After that life happened, it was very simple.
Like a roller coaster with many ups and downs,
Because of the love and hate relationship I had with my parents...especially my mother.
But I was still happy, because the pain and doubts made me feel alive

Now after my mother's passing, it's not so simple.
I'm more confused than ever, because some dreams and some nightmares can become reality so it seems.
The reality of time you cannot get back anymore with someone you once loved.
The reality that colors can fade away and turn black in front of you.
The reality that a white room, can become your dark room.

The lie:
At first I told her that I loved her no matter what.
When times changed I told her that I hated her for everything.
And at the end of her life I told her that I didn't know how we ended up like this,
yet I always knew how we did.

The truth:
The truth is that I never left that room, that I'm still weeping over her empty corpse,
that once was filled up with possibilities. To be someone, to stand up and make a change.
The truth is a part of me is asking for guidance still, as it has lost it's way...
Asking at the one who used to answer, but who can't answer it no more.