>≫≫Wrinkled Lines Poem by Abdul Wahab

Minutes things now pinch me hard
As I learn to search the hidden
Meanings kept under words
Deeds are a show, behind them
The real intentions, conspired
And hatched in the green-room
Pierce my heart as I come to know
Since the time I think deep
Days just before starting of my writing
I did not know how to read the real motive
In between the wrinkled lines of their faces
Or I did not care or did not give them a damn
Now I wonder how I spent my life
Among the crooks and run the paths
With thousand barbs