A son is born, the family rejoices There are blood stains on the floor, but the blood ain’t fresh It also does not belong to the boy or his mother As the son grows, he crawls on the red marks, accepting them as a part of his life When he grows up to be a man, he marks his own floor with blood of beautiful angels before he finally gets a son My heart cries, not because I was once a girl child, but because I am human with a heart