The Gulags Poem by Naveed Akram

A gulag is purple due to heat of the heart,
It bleeds more profusely when you depart;
A morose human touches the hag lying
Around in the dust of the separate heart.
One carries a handbag to frighten,
In it is contained a program of promise.
One is bugging the other due to dying,
It lags and nags dutifully because you are out.
My staggering achievement must be revisited
From the hag of the old grounds, the gulag’s
Sanctuary where bleeding occurred with
Much morbid travels and journey.
The journey of the heart is to be the joystick
Of a man crazy in rendering the tyrant to die
Bounding for the dust of the earth,
For sitting by is like standing still.