As a child I was so ashamed we were poor, A mother of three by twenty one was a lot to endure.
When compassion should have been my conscience, I was livid I never had a new pair of high tops.
The sorrow and work she put forth to put food on the table, Protecting her babies with fables.
Alls I wanted was more than hand me downs, Now I regret how much I made her frown.
She met all our needs with love, I was that spiteful, remorseful, child who became angry in my teens.
Today I can honestly say, She is stronger than I’ll ever be, Teaching us what’s important is actually free, How we grew up was actually a gift of family, The love we were given was more than I could’ve asked for.