I Am Form Poem by Naveed Akram

I ride wrongly and accuse the believer,
He has sacked me and called me godly,
For my twitches are sacred and the art
Of the soul is finished in the forms of death.
My medical men are fixing me in the end,
Living like the dogs of the soldiery, offering me
Life more than is possible, more than the life.
Death shall proclaim itself, before the fixers keep
Me father, before the illegality of the moment has
Arrived on the conditions of youth and sacred arts.
My riding is positively thought over, in the essences
And the existence of the soul that drives an elder
To the city of God, the city where one doubts the
The thief’s property, a proper look at fires.