Time Stops

No. Don’t.

Come back to me.

Never be out of my sight.

Not for a minute.

Not for a moment.

I’ve spent my whole life for you.

I married for you.

I worked for you.

I didn’t sleep for you.

I feel pain everytime you raise your voice at me.

And now you’re leaving?

Time, don’t stop. Give my son back to me.                  

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A/N: An imaginitve look into the thoughts of the mother of the students in that ferry. 

Writing is also a form of art.