Mother and Son Split Narrative Using the Poem "Poppies"

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Mother and Son
“My father had gone to war endangering his life for us and for our country, and now I want to be just like dad and support my country when they need me” The son started, he tried his best not to beat around the bush and tried to dart his point on the target. “So can I?” My son is going to war and all I can think is about my husband; he left me like my son leaving for war. My husband when he never came back. I can still hear the bells. The bells hearing my sensitive ears; the reminder a loved one has gone. That day a telegram delivered to my door was filled with sadness. I never want that day repeated. “Don’t go! You’re the only one I have. You’re everything for me; you’re the only support I can ever have. You can’t leave me and go to war when I need you!” The mother sobbed and her face turned pale. The son moaned and groaned at his mother. His mother denied him from going to war. She didn’t want to lose anyone again. I don’t know why my mother refuses every time I want something. All I want is some independence, Freedom. I don’t know want anything else. Just to take my own decisions. I can’t even do that when my mum is around. When dad was here, he let me do anything I wanted: “Mum, I am going out.”

“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere, just let me go, I’m not a child anymore!”
“Let him go!” moaned the dad
“Thanks dad”
And since then the world overflowed like a treasure chest for Philip however since Philips dad had passed away, his freedom, his independence, and rights had all been binded behind boundaries, which now has been released- not literally. Philip ran away. He ran away from responsibilities and away from his mother to fight in the war. I can still remember how my son asked for permission and his dad let him go. The exact thing is happening; he’s asked me he wants to fight in the war. I am shattered to pieces. He’s gone. And it feels it had been a stormy night. Raining, thundering like bombshells thrown. He’s gone against me, ignored...
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