Blissfully Cool Poem by Naveed Akram

A hand was blissfully cool,
With moving and delusion;
The dark corners of the room
Subjugated my presence.
Chilling settings like this
Ruin the balance of peace
Around the strategy of the head
And the heart is fond of being tied up
Or moored to the bank of a river
Called life.

Death and fear met me in the chase,
A breath of chilling air made
Fountains filled, to be in some flesh.
The night air had eradicated
Selfishly my honour - this is pain!
A bone shall speak once you recall
The body or corpse that is you.