No one could save my birth mother. It is as if she was born lost, blind, something full of abominable hate, carnal lust. Yes, she was something wicked. But, I survived! We survived! Praise the LORD!
I just want to put a headstone on my grandfather's grave. It is only right. He did so much for us. He sacrificed for us. He was murdered by his lunatic daughter for us. He has never been morned or honored properly because of her.
I refuse to fear that slut! I will not honor her, cloak for her or live crucified and gutted like a fish for her.
People that hate me for refusing to honor her, to lie and cloak for her, to remain silent for her, can kick rocks.
Crying is not a sign of weakness, it is a sign of intelligence, of the anointing, of GOD's Grace.
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