Battle Of Loss Poem by Sidra Mahmood Khan

Yeah, in the end nature always win
Man with all grace remains;
Empty hands
Roads are long
Sky is endless; Moon is soothe
When sun burns the skin
And true relations also disappear akin
What you think even remain in thinking or
Like the ringlet; always revolve in its on circle
Ceiling roof spread the wings
Sometimes when bottle of rain pour
Filled squared lakes
In the end, won't nature always win?
The battle against civilization in