i. mama, these verses are stained with yesteryears’ distress, today’s tears and red- black ink of sorrowful solitude. ii. my mama who art behind the clouds tell me how to attain the sunny summit when my whole is drenched in darkness and death-blots smearing these pages? …i am sequestered to stare at the sunny sky. iii. my teacher asked me write about you and i wrote in a sentence: “my…