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I wonder if she thinks it’s worth it,
To be bruised with fatigue,
To be engulfed by our cries,
To know that we’re oblivious
To her ceaseless tries
I say I wonder because,
She is masked by a light in her eyes,
The kind only mothers have,
That won’t burn out
Despite troublesome cries,
A light that’s reflected,
In everyone she regards,
A light that’s shining.

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