sometimes i feel guilty for having the momma i do.
she doesn't like to be called "momma"
but in my heart, that's who she is.
she has filled me and allowed me to fill her.
she works.
i don't work.
i am not my momma.
where is she now?
i miss her.
Author notes
i stole the title from another poem i love-- my poem is not nearly as good.
