My Head Hurts Poem by Naveed Akram

They have hit my hard head,
Ideals of the skin are not permanent;
They frighten the being of bothers,
Ideally a sanction must arrive by asking.

Hitting my head is morally wrought with
Difficulties, judges, and tricks of the heart.
It creates the philosophy of the head
As the heart pumps blood like a machine.

They have hit my temperature with more
Than the heat of the middle ages;
Their hitting hard collapsed the thought
Engine of a brilliant month and night.

Where does my head hurt like a bolt
Out of the blue, out of the black grass?
The weeds have grown like a lily,
And my head droops to conquer naturally.