Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
A Shadow Of Wealth
A shadow of the sun shook me as if heat
Turned on me with loss, heat tossed and turned;
The energy offered by the few who are priests
Struck us with pebbles, stones and then boulders;
My strife will never end, forming sickness,
Fighting wealth, igniting triumph with rights.
The feeding finds itself, without senses that died,
Within the common sense, strung up to the clouds.
A shadow shied from me, as I lost everything
Actually igniting perfection, and it rained forth
To subdue a minority of idiotic proportions.
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