To the warrior
All her life my mom worked as a helper, a kitchen lady
A topic here which is frowned upon
People feel embarrassed to talk about
But I'm not.
From cleaning after people to picking up dog shit and under paid
The old lady always kept food on the table
Kept me and my siblings with clothes upon our backs
Shoes on our feet and a shelter above our heads.
Never have she given what I wanted, but strived to give me what I needed
Took me to school, whipped me into shape
Skin and leather,
Moulded me into the men I've become
I don't know how but she always did,
I've never seen her cry in the face of adversity
Always kept the wolves from the door.
I'm not proud of where I come from
But I'm duly proud of my mom and the life she tried to provide for us
From making a meal from dregs and a home from every rock we found ourselves lying under.
So thank you for being my mom and my dad,
My best friend and my first and last love