The Young Fight Poem by Naveed Akram

The young man cringed forming a truth of liquids,
In the direction of flight and fight.
A little piece of resentment created me instead,
I desired a fight in the whole factor,
An army armed was a selling sight.
Officers could argue, ask and hate,
Filling forms was fellowship and fierce fight.

The young men who cringed called us in,
The fight was heavy and hated by highness,
The young stupor was a ready fight of roars.
May the image of the youth in flight
Be called a mutiny, and a blessed act of charity,
Fiercely won by those in unity and delight.

In deeds we are one, in words we are many,
As if rights and wrongs called in a hurry.
These tragic young soldiers of the battalion,
These drastic measures,
Were inhibited by illness and ire.