An Ungrateful Person..
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When there are so many flowers bloom,
I always want to look at the thorns,
And the pain which spring out tears,
When there are so many boxes of gifts,
Scattered in the path of my target,
I have never opened many, only aware,
Of a few, regrets rule my heart and soul,
I am very ungrateful and think only of myself,
When I walk on the piles of grains and hay,
A spiky shell pricks my toe and it really hurt,
Do I choose to step on the particular spot,
Where the hurt, hides to seek the victim,
I am too selfish to ignore all those lovely places,
It is my own fault to be ungrateful and temperate,
Not praising the goodness everywhere found,
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