Broken back and batter legs,
my mother had the same, said to say,
she was cured of her polio,
but was also told no children could she have,
five came before me and two after,
eight in entirety,
she was determined to prove the doctors wrong,
so now here I am broken back and batter legs,
off to work every day,
working for the minimum wage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem