Mom

My mother made mistakes. 

Moreover, my mother made me misplace. Mom made me mistreat, misfire, mistrust and maintain. Mostly, my mother made me manipulate. My mental means make me make melodies of my mother's mechanical mainframe. Mentally, my mind has melted most of my memories. Maybe this means my medication and masquerading is metaphorically mundane. 

Maybe my mother made me make my most miscellaneous mindset manifest till it misdirected. Microorganisms materialized and my mind magnified the mystery my mother minimized. My meditation is misaligned.

My mother maybe misses me, maybe she misses monetary means of my morphology. Maybe what my mother means is that (modestly)missing me makes mother muse maliciously. Moms might make a mystery to many, miraculously motivating most but my mother managed my misery. More mental mess and memorable milestones.

My mother's methodology motivated (masterfully) my maniacal mishaps, made my merriest moments mere masks and made ministers, minstrels and music mandatory midlands. My mementos magically mustered emotions my mother masterfully monopolized. Meaning my most meaningful molecules modified, making me miraculously mystified.

My morals' motility made my mother mumble morbidly. My morals motivated mother's migraines, manipulated more mind-games and made mother my mate, to misinform and medicate. My muse is monstrously micro-scoping maternity.

My mother made mistakes.