Mothers

Mothers, we cry for them, even in our last moments.

Whether they were very malicious or quite generous

We cry for them when we get hurt

Even if they were the ones that caused it

We love them for all they've done

From bandaging our scraped knees

Or to just giving birth to us

It's quite strange, is it not?

How we could love someone who treats us like dirt.

And when they're gone, we miss them

All the beatings, or all the love

And when we're breathing our last breaths

We cry helplessly for our mothers

Like a lost child.