The days too eventually fell silent,
No sounds, not even by the crows,
All you could hear was the sound of,
Fear knocking on the doors,

The beautiful sky seems to be dull,
With the wings of flying fear.
The trees and flowers stand so still,
With a pain rolling down in a tear.
No joy it comes in the meadows green,
When you have nobody to play.
No fun it comes by sitting so cool,
And watch the passing by day.
The motherly love who is busy a lot,
In the kitchen she's found to cook.
She seems to be like an...