Painful Ends Poem by Rafique Farooqi

At the ends,
eagers and excitements,
find flaccid tongues,
Achieved or lost,
dribble on the feet.
The inner and outer wars,
bring vultures, to eat,
dead aims,
and ill smelling,
blood of realities, gets
served to flies of lies.
The long hands of time,
bend the spines of arrogance.
the withered leafs of autumn,
fuel the smoke and fire of demolition.
choices to life and death,
written on the ill fitted shoes of miseries,
which blister the the feet of the wariors
and rust the shines,
of swords of ages.
Ends are always painful.