What if we're all pheonices? Born out of the ashes of our parents.
We must admit that some of them do die when we're born.
Internally a little. May the souls of the mothers who gave their lives for their children
Rest
In
Peace
(Leave it to me to introduce the macabre into a Mothers' Day Poem)
-But the truth has to be told.
There are some who abandon their children - some who wish they were never born.
This ... Is not for them.
Here's to the strong. The women who've given it all for their children.
The women who go out everyday and make the world their bitch.
This - this is for you mama.
This is for those women who've had their security dragged from under them, repeatedly.
But guess what? The problems are gone ... Yet they remain.
To ... Wash, cook, clean. Help yuh with yuh homework then send yuh ass to bed.
Or maybe she had to leave for you to have it better in life.
This is for the mothers who've risked resentment to provide financially.
Mark my words - Your rewards will come.
(Might squeeze yuh a smalls every now and then - just keep it pan di down low)
- We'll never know what they go through to provide for us.
Single mothers who keep your head above the water -
We see you.
Stay fighting. Stay caring. Stay loving.
You weren't given a burden you couldn't bear.
Mothers ... Mothers all. We love you.
Well I do.
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