The cries of a newborn,
The wings of a butterfly,
And the leaves of the fall,
All share a common epilogue,
We call them the voice of the innocence.

The reason for a death,
The way to live a life,
And the pages of a history book,
All share a common vision,
We call them the perks of time.

The strings of a guitar,
The petals of a flower,
And the colours on a canvas,
All share a common notion,
We call them the art of emotion.

The words of a writer,
The knife of a ******,
And the survival of the culture,
All share a common disaster,
We call them the witnesses of true despair.