Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
The telling founded by love exerts something
To do with your soul,
Irritations create the lawn for the body,
Splitting and smashing,
Forming and fighting.
Living with lovely people
Suggests that the loves of a year
Are erased due to infinity,
And life does lie for the liars,
Always they sigh and decide.
How will the patient one see through
His eyes if he is blind?
Told by their enviers,
We are simple and seeing
Frothing with juice of the stand.
There is a hole in the head
That believes in blind, deaf and dumb
Beings who swear to the task
Ahead, yet you
Live among us in rapid touches and states.
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