There isn't much that I live for in my life.
I have no mother,
and my father was never in the picture.
The only one that cared is laying dead in the groud as I write this.
It breaks my heart to know it, think it, accept it, and even say it...
there isn't a single thing I wouldn't do in this world to bring her back.
She was more of a mother to me then my own mother was.
She didn't sell me;
she didn't stick needles in my arm;
she didn't leave me home for 3-4 days alone when I was 2 years old;
she never did any of the things my mother did - all she did.... was simply love me in a way that not even I can begin to explain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.