My mother is one of the strongest women I know.

She never stops fighting,

even with the weight of the world on her back.

My mother has a humongous chip, 

resting right on her shoulder.

She got pregnant at nineteen,

dropped out of college,

and now has three other mouths to feed.

My mother didn’t play her cards right,

and got the worst one of all: struggle.

He left.

So she has to take care of three,

and he takes care of three,

but he has seven,

and keeps having more and more,

but doesn’t care for the other four,

he made.

While my siblings’ and my plate were not always full,

my dearest mommy’s always was,

and she had to bear her burdens single-handedly.