She broke herself into pieces so you could feel whole—say more than just “thanks.”

She didn’t sleep so you could dream—don’t waste your words today.

She carried your weight, your fear, your future—without asking for a damn thing.

She gave up her life’s chapters so you could write yours—don’t forget the author.

While you chased freedom, she gave up hers—without complaint, without credit.

You’ll never know the nights she cried so you could smile in the morning. – 

Her hands aged early—feeding, fixing, holding you. Say something real today.

She bled in silence so you could speak loud—don’t go quiet now.

You were her reason for everything. And she never asked you to notice.

1. She gave when she had nothing left—Happy Mother’s Day isn’t enough, but it’s a start.