Mom

My mother works from 6 to 4:30
Everyday they treat her so unworthy
My mom keeps grinding for earnings
Her passion was to suffer for me
It's a relief when I see her out of bed
A radiant smile daily instead
Of sinking in a pool of dread
Where it's so easy to just stop dead
My mother is a flower
With thorns, she has the power
To work these awful hours
And make me even prouder
I love my mother so
And I really hope she knows
That even when I'm grown
I'll still pick up the phone

Written Sometime 2019. You may be relieved to hear my mother has found a new job, one that is far better for her and her family.

Take me back.

Take me home.