So many broken hearts are there,
Hated and forsaken.
So much innocence to spare,
Forgotten yet not forgiven.

All the dying unnoticed flowers,
The swaying old dried leaves.
Washing away in the rain’s shower,
Just like cotton heaps.

But in the midst of every setting sun
There’s a moon.
And maybe among all withered flowers
There’s a bud yet to bloom.

Even in the old dried leaves,
Maybe some caterpillar lives.
And maybe our hearts will learn to care,
After surviving hardship and despair.

There’s always a rainbow after the rain, and
In the end, the light of hope will this earth retains.

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