So many broken hearts are there,
Hated and forsaken.
So much innocence to spare,
Forgotten but not forgiven.
All the dying unnoticed flowers,
The dusted old dried leaves.
Washing away in the rain’s shower,
Just like our heart’s 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 it succumbs to hardship and despair.
There’s always a rainbow after the rain,
And the light of hope will this earth retain.