It's never the same

I wrote this poem describing condition that how people are busy in their own world

At this moment in the morning
the sun is a its high
like before it shines
and is always at its time


The same sun,the same light
but
not the flowers
which used to sing the song of happiness and shines
People would have watered them and looked after them all the time
if the world would have been the same

The same sun, the same light
but
the happiness is covered on people's faces
and no one is there to claim for it
because they are so busy in winning the races
which separated them from the things which they should have gained it
if only they have chosen a different way

So don't wait for the end of the world
when the Earth it self will speak and blame
its better time now for us to change!