Petrifying State Poem by Osama Waqar

Not pure of heart are we
Our souls are full of hate
All else shall go in vain
Our petrifying state!

We've lost control of self
We're not when we were kind
What led us to this path?
Wonders my striking mind

I hurriedly went to see
as nature has its ways
and in the morn', don't ask
what burnt my eyes in days.

The dew that shined a thousand
suns, whose light had killed
all dark and vicious dreams
which someone had instilled.

The outgrown buds had bitter
but more or less the same
that pain which one would suffer
the gardener knew they came

Below the dew, was grass.
All straight and tall and green;
Yet striving through the pain,
that the buds had also seen.

And all the scene conveyed
a sense, a ray of hope;
'Besides, the storms in dark,
Do hold onto my rope.'