My mother hunted for the precious life for eighty-seven years. Of course she never found it. She never found any happiness either. My mother could not be satisfied, nothing, no one was ever good enough for her. If you gave her a gift she became suspicious immediately , accusing you of wanting something.
No matter what you paid, how much you sacrificed , the gift never cost enough, she always found something wrong with it and she would take it back or re gift it.
My heart broke, just dissolved in my chest. Her first son's family sent her a gift for Mother's Day. It was a mock crock full of kitchen utensils. She gave it to me; "You can have that shit! I don't put cheap shit like that in my kitchen." ; Martha snarled, was angry that anyone would waste her time and take up space in her already cluttered hoarders paradise.
Wait! This was a gift from the son she had at sixteen and spent his entire life secretly attempting to extract her brand of revenge from him! She is the reason his life had turned out to be a tragic train wreck and the low slut still wasn't satisfied. I didn't help. When I found out she was the reason his house burned down to the ground, I never told him. Why? Was it the terrifying fear she planted? Was it just habit, learned behavior? Granddaddy witnessed her worse behavior often and he never said a word.
Martha was a NYMPHOMANIAC and she took Spanish Fly for the entire two years we lived on the campus of Fayetteville State Teachers College. Martha built a den of iniquity in the back of the house. My mother deliberately planted my grandfather in the living room as his room, in the front of the house. This room was huge Granddaddy's little bed was lost, was swallowed up in this huge space but it was well away from her "fun room". She gave me the hallway. It was fine because it was also large. Unfortunately for my older brother (age 12) he was relegated to the sin room, her fornicating room. The room where the strange men she collected nightly after circling Vick's Drive Inn in her long convertible Bonneville , Pontiac came to enjoy Mathy Jane. Mathy was truly winning, could not be stopped. Martha Jane Walters had her "dust" and all the **** she wanted. No, the low slut never cared if it was her own son! Brace yourself, Martha's life long motto: "The closer kin, the deeper in."
How do I know? I was eleven! Not only that, that low slut made me clean up her "cum" towels, used condoms and Emko bottles. Little did I know, mentally Martha was an adolescent whore. Her numerical age was twenty-six years my senior but Martha's emotional maturity never developed past that of a very corrupt thirteen year old child.
Martha did sick evil things to all six of us (secretly) all the time. But for some reason Martha loved to play the cooing cat, head bumping you, rubbing up against you, pretending to love you. My mother was so full of phony flattery it should have been a crime. I remember sharing my plan for success, my serious self discipline. Every single semester that I attended college I made the Dean's List. Not one word of praise from my mother. Not one penny either. My mother never gave me five cents to attend college. No, she did pay the five or ten dollars for my application fee.
I attended NC A and T. for four years and I can remember every date I went on. There were only four. Four in four years. No, I could get dates. I really did have to fight men off with a stick. I was a virgin. I was terrified of intimacy. If a man touched me, my body would start shaking, I remember nearly going into a convulsion when my date attempted to give me a massage. My body knew what my brain didn't.
Martha was not just a pedophile, she was a sick perverted pedophile. Something tells me that slut had me viciously raped more than once. She did not wait until I was eight. That slut put me in bed with her and that old blind man she married. Rot bitch!
GOD did not create (HIS) Church so low lying scum like my mother can pretend to love humanity in order to slip in and violate GOD's anointed, (HIS) children. All these idiots lock stepping every Sunday. Sitting up under perverted whores like my mother. Men and women giving Communion, baptizing, giving into marriage, last rites and laughing.
We should all wonder, why is the "Church" at war against the "homosexual", marching against them, vilifying and attempting to legislate punitive laws designed to humiliate them. Jesus told us we would strain at a gnat and swallow a camel. What about the Pedophile? The INCESTUOUS MOTHER or father that preaches?
What? Are we going to do like my mother's church, Simon Temple A.M.E.Zion Church on Yadkin Road in Fayetteville, North Carolina? Simon Temple, do know Martha said you all were just like her, a bunch of lying hypocritical faggots. She said you were all a bunch of lying greedy dogs, that your Bishop was the head Faggot.
There is something very wrong in the body of Christ. I did contact my mother's church and was lied to, ignored, discounted as something unworthy of their time. Hey preacher, you may be on top now. Many may still be blind, just don't count on everyone remaining your fool.
GOD said No!
Bow down satan!
Praise the LORD!
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