It is a different kind of feeling than a sister or a wife,
A mother cannot choose to love her children that she bore,
It is instinct, it is nature, it was decided long before.
A mother bears the burden of her children's versatility,
Every sin, and wrong mistake they make is her responsibility,
For she has brought them to this world, through no fault of their own,
So it is she who ought to love them like no other she has known.
Every mother has a bond between her children and herself,
It is a bond that can't be broken even if it breaks itself,
Since birth they are connected by a cord of her devotion,
And from then the cord will stretch itself to reach across the ocean.
A mothers love cannot be shared between her children equal,
For her love is simply infinite, no ending or no sequel,
Her children will demand she give them all of her attention,
Each one will want her to themselves, each lacking comprehension.
Selflessly she'd give her children everything they wanted,
She'd give up her heart and soul, and leave her own heart haunted,
The mother is our entity of love and pure affection,
She is the root of everything when looked upon reflection,
No other creature in this world could love so selflessly,
Only her, the loving mother, could and only she.