happy mother's day in hell

No, I don't feel sad.
I don't feel remotely melancholy.
It's an anger that's tinged with resentment over you,
burned out husk of a creature
black leathery wings that smell of gasoline and fire
everything you touch burns and melts to the ground
some sort of sludgy substance.

happy mother's day in hell
enjoy the fire and brimstone
as the ash and soot consumes your body
to match the darkness of your soul.