Lively Spurn Poem by Puloq Arafat

In the end of the day..
An intention rises to its peak-
To die seeing a smile as the scent of tribute.
On the advent of all injuries,
Deadly breaths are counting its ominous lure.
Bits of all triumphs are knocking at the door of pain.
An impatient sound of chronicle phase,
Cannot rebound the scene of a straight stroke.
Haphazardly the resonance of an innocent face-
Counts the rhythm of its footsteps.
In the end of the night..
Sounds of breaths are zigzag.
On the shore of dreaming sharp..
An impolite negligence is roaming bright.
A lively spurn...
Violates a vivid sense towards ultra run.