More Food Poem by Naveed Akram

Toy us, toy food with instinct saving you,
Then definitely work on that which makes,
Surrender yours, so action failed - it aches,
It aches and aches, forever it imbue.
So face this sound like fodder and horseshoe,
I see a bath may profit my backaches,
Then present food described us as brakes,
Cakes bring the joy to danger - interview!
I see the toys, I think I am a tool,
My tools as one that lusts for pain are grand,
The work I feed shall win, shall fit, preserve.
Inquire into food and carrots cool,
This energetic choir sings so bland,
My work is concentrating on my nerve.