Through my mother's eyes Childhood was wasted on foolish dreams About becoming an artist, Because artists never make enough, And she was the sensible daughter of a Working class steelworker Who should have known better. Through my mother's eyes Childhood was full of hurt and pain Because the children saw she was different And children can be so cruel, And her father's words were harsh And his fists fast and hard. Through my eyes, Childhood was wasted on foolish dreams About becoming an author, Because nobody can live as an author, And I am the sensible daughter of a Working class minimum wager Who should have known better. Through my eyes, Childhood was full of hurt and pain, Because the children saw I was different And the children were so cruel And my mother's words harsh And her fists fast and hard Through my mother's eyes, The future is a waste of time, Full of worry and doubt, And dreams of a pleasant end to it all Are dimming fast in view of reality. Through my eyes, The future is wide open, I will step in as I am ready, And my dreams will never die, And my reality is so very different. Thank god I can finally see That I am not my mother.Birth sign: Libra
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