My mom is my best friend one I can rely, calling her from jail, trying hard not to cry.
Telling her that I messed up and I’ll be going away, she’s day “don’t worry son, we’ll figure out a way”.
My actions have taken me away once again it seems without fail; I continue to sin.
No matter the crime my mom’s always there, money on the phone and stories to share.
You think I’d learn after so many times, dealing with people always dropping their dimes.
Now they’re screwed it already been seen, mess with her kids, mom will get mean.
No matter the situation mom backs our play, twenty-four seven, no matter the day.
Mom, I wrote this poem while thinking of you, knowing that you’re my best friend and your love is true.
You’ve been there every step of the way, so I write this rhyme to help me say….
I love you!
By Joshua Roberts