The day was a beautiful mixture of colours,
aromas and people talking about the day,
They gather and onlook as fathers and mothers,
focused on the field where their children play,
there for shelter with a call...
yet the rain will fall...
The battle-field was scourged with blood,
false hearted promises and emotionless cries;
Numerous slayed souls masked by the mud,
a warrior's turf labled with lost lives,
Human's howls and roars could not bring death to a stall...
yet the rain will fall...
The years brought differences in seasons,
love and hate, then whispers to rage;
Ignore the truth and find out own reasons,
banish light and with the darkness we bathe;
We the victums of dispise fight with our claws...
yet the rain will fall...
Then rose a flower, along the garden of passion,
undecided of where to lay,
it's pedals seemed to be the latest fashion,
yet, it's root, placed in a grave;
Conflicts with nature and all it's laws...
...yet the rain will forever fall...
love...
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