The Little Shoes Poem by Naveed Akram

A little lie blows into my shoes,
Inflaming the toes with anger at the roots;
To socially interact with elders is founding
The religion of angry nations
Always to suggest feet are deathly.

The robes are aligned within ranks,
The shoe and boot are symbols of worth
Frozen within the snowy plains of land
That hardly bow to the soldiers and troops;
Fixed are the trees above and below.

My shoes are their enemies,
Yesterday a troop was gaining due to age,
He shot five men in cold nightmares
When snow had its feeling and art,
Where snow was the son of the frost.