Coming to the end of the path, my steps falter as I come to a stop noticing the willow tree a few meters away with its bare branches swaying in the breeze. Two black grave stones stand solemnly in front of it, the remnants of rose bushes planted just behind them. It looks so lonely and forlorn, as if no one has visited these graves in years. Fourteen years. I spent fourteen years wondering why I was left in the Slums all alone. Fourteen years of wanting to know if my parents were alive and why they gave me up. And here they are buried in the cold hard ground.
Tears fall from my eyes and I find myself unable to continue forward. All strength I had earlier leaves me and I fall to my knees. Wrapping my arms around myself, I cry for them, for their untimely death and for the love I should
