Secrets they tell and rest penetrate by own,
a need they share, like flesh to bone.
Discreet colors of 'I' turns into 'We',
They accept the random,
letting the thick red blood to be free.
Chords to chaos they warmly connect,
Sometimes they sort, and rest they reject.
Of all laughter they played,
and the times when sorrows were delayed,
Happy Families were then naturally framed.
P.S. Dedicated to my World's Best Family!
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