The mother rises when vices are on the rise.
The mother is the most beautiful creation of the world,
The mother, created by the world, thought by Gods.
Lives to rise against the whirlwind, against the storm.
She falls yet she stands.
Is it your feet?
Is it a treat?
Is it that it is a misfit?
Is it that it is a street?
Or is it a bubbly meet?
a cherubic feat.
Is it mutton meat?
Or is it your meat?

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