Beneath My World Poem by Ahmed Aedan

You whose cheeks ought to be seen,
Whose mind to be revered,
Who meets a king and with drivel he's keen.
Under the moon light and stirring the shadows,
cry's gently but no one's hassle,
And falls asleep within his caution,
You whose cheeks ought to be seen.
Friend cried he, deprived of every other misery,
For all that came, shall be fame,
nothing but gibberish talk with no aim,
Who meets a king and with drivel he's keen.
Under the hills and up the barrels,
inside of the mountains, and outside of the facile
And learn no man is up against time,
for, too, they grieved it on its way
You whose cheeks ought to be seen.
Sing comes the silence,
hope shattered under the bottomless hills of fire,
Blind, come the eye; hear for no ears to be revered,
Who meets a king and with drivel he's keen.
And you, my guru,
give to be given and time to seed what harvest shall bequeath
Curses, shouts, undermine no doubts,
and gently speaks no fouls.
You whose cheeks ought to be seen.
Who meets a king and with drivel he's keen.