Mother –by Indigo Dream
Mother, to whom I owe my life
Pass the day of each morning strife
A heart so pure yet unrecognized
All she’s done, I now realize.
I lay in my bed, oblivious to her acts
How she has made me see fiction from facts
The fool I was, who did not see
What this woman has done for me
Words of no matter, escaping my reach of return
I pass her by, leaving nothing but a burn
I am 17 now, with knowledge and time to spare
Knowing exactly how much, how much she can care
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