You may be black or white,
Poor or you exercise your might.
We all go through Uncertainties.
Dealing with our own sets of Insecurities.
We may be a slave to our own beliefs
But we do suffer from our personal griefs.
Aren’t we the same after all?
Once you read the book of Life,
Not Theoretically, nor Intellectually,
We realise that we aren’t different
By any Right.
Now we dare to see life,
Not as an individual struggle,
Being in our tiny bubble
And we aren’t just concerned
With our limited identity,
But for the life of the entire humanity.
Now there’s the slightest scope of compassion.
With our firm relentless action.
Because we see above all.
That we’re the same after all.