Ink Stained

Don’t you stumble upon the rocks that hurt us, Don’t you cry for the thorns that bled us, Don’t you long for stars that upset us, You, our little baby, you have all of us. You have an aunt, from whom you’ll learn, The art of singing and the passion of hard work. You have an uncle, from whom you’ll earn, A crate of humor and a goodwill filled urn. You have an uncle, who at turns will guide, At times you are stuck, or in a turmoil of life. And you have a useless uncle too, But at times hard and tough, he can be counted on by you. But remember this our little baby, The strength of a woman, lies in her own body. Whenever in your life you start to forget this, Take a look around your house and look up to your Mommy. From ways rosy, and some full of thorns, You will learn some life lessons. But don’t cry on the blood from those thorns you, Because lessons learnt bleeding are the most vital ones. Trust people, but none too many, As goodwil