'Get Lost' Poem by M. Shahid. H Chouhdry

Is there a beginning or end to rue on past,
Since I did sins, made fools and get lost,

I go to the police for ravel and politeness,
Expel out bribe, or you may get lost,

A poor naïve man to aristocratic man,
Rights are not same, where I get Lost,

Am I missing or screwed up my thoughts,
Forget the last listening of boss go, get lost,

For deeds thou done in sake of wealth,
Real beggar, a mere fakeer finally you get lost,

No favor for livelihood or right to living fakeer,
He born angel, die fakeer and get lost,

O’er the theme of these odes and my passion,
They twaddle no allocation right here, go get lost,

I am proud if collar and called rebel,
And sent to jail and gallows, rest lost,

For writing beyond cruelness to trivial events,
Thou ruins thyself and get lost,

Exploitation and victimization everywhere,
Shahid no place for justness so get lost.