My mamma

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  • Childhood

    My mamma

    Everyday and every time,
    I look into my mammas eyes

    It reminds me of the good
    and the bad times

    When I used to cry every night,
    she would tell me everything is gonna be alright

    My mamma was always nice,
    she was never mean

    she was nice to people that
    would treat her respectfully

    she would always brighten up my days,
    even though I would have a lot of pain

    my mamma had very rough times,
    but not to where the point she wanted to die

    I used to drive her nuts,
    I used to drive her insane,
    I used to drive her crazy,
    to where the point she had pain

    I regret making her go through all that,
    and now im just enjoying the life that we have

    If my momma was to die,
    I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my life

    my mom was always there,
    my dad never showed he cared

    he comes home drunk every night,
    nothings ever right

    my dad was never there,
    but my momma was,
    she’s the only one that I can trust.

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    yvette’s Poems (1)

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