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it is lined by time. Even if she doesn't look the same, she is still that dear mother of mine.
She has always given of herself to me, nothing was I ever denied. She laughed when I laughed, she comforted me when I cried.
There is no one like her, I don't think there ever will be. No one means as much to me, as she.
To me, it doesn't matter what she looks like, I guess it is a matter of pride. For the things that make her the most beautiful, are the things she has
inside.
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Mother
