The death of one,
Is the birth of another.
The love of the sun,
Is like the kindness of a mother.
Living with love,
And not living with hate,
Can bring peace like a simple dove,
To bring in a good fate.
Rivers of need,
Slowly brings confusion.
Needing to feed,
Each little illusion,
And greed,
That appears.
Family brings a bond,
While lonliness brings tears.
Love is something to be fond,
Of as a joy.
Parents and siblings,
Can very easily annoy,
With every little fling,
But nothing can tear apart,
A family's trust.
Each part,
Of hate will seem to rust,
Away by time.
Birth and death are never new,
But is priceless each time.
It is what we all knew.
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