Tue, 09/25/2018 - 18:01 -- Chino1

My own mother, her heart of gold,

Her mind of Iron, on my future she's sold.

I try and I try, no doubt about that,

but pouring my heart out still leaves me flat.

I need this now, don't you see,

Not just for her, but also for me.

She tries her best, and has gone through it all,

and all I give her is another bank withdrawal.

I apologize for putting her through all of it,

and the only way to make up, is another scholarship.

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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