I cried loud when I tripped off my three-tyre bicycle at the age of two
I cried a little lesser when I fell flat my face at the age of eight from a bicycle this time tyres two.
I sobbed when I fell rolling down a hill from a much larger bicycle at the age of thirteen
Was I pretending or was I stronger as a teen.
We fall most of the times that we wish to compete
At times even mistakes we confidently repeat.
We fall hard and hurt ourselves
At times so hard that we can’t get up ourselves.
But when we get up again and try this time
Our scar seems no ridicule but sublime.
And when we don’t. Neither get up again nor try
Even bruises make us wry and cry.
Bruises get healed, scars remain
But owning both, isn’t that vain.
Something that’s vain is, to not be able to deal
To deal with a bruise or scar that might not heal.
Be proud of scars, showcase them with regard and smile
Let bruises heal, they’re there for just a while.
Don’t turn around in despair of the pain
It’ll provide not just pleasure later but also gain.
Fight your battle or the next player will
Don’t just sit and sob near your window sill.
Life isn’t always a fair play, a fair game
But don’t stop playing without gaining yours as the player name.