I Feekl Clean Poem by Ibrar Siddiqi

I love rading my prayers.
Or read Allahs anem with my rosary beads.
I know that he is busy.
But I know I will answer my needs.
On my prayer mat
wearung my little cap.

Looking at the world.
Surrounded by filth and despair.
I feel better after reding a [rayter.
I see others that constantly commit some evil.
You are lower than the devil.
Reading the papers with the rubbish.
They call news.
Rustling through the papers just giovesme the blues.
Why dont people go to thier churches,
Instead of shooting the good book on a rifle rang?
With the ignorant preaching hate.
Let Allah decide their fate.
Could I be callous and bomb a church?
Or blow up McDonalds?
I sit on my prayer mat
with my little cap.
Contemplating good thoughts.
Postives or ones.
Instead of zeroes or noughts.

Go to a church.
Sit down and think.
Of yourself.
Spare a thouhgt for your fate.
Irts not too late.
Could be the best you did.
Better than lying waatsed dirty in the gutter.
Like a scutter.
You may not feel clean.
But soon you will uinderstand.
But I'll feel clean no matter what you think.
I am a Muslim.
He's one of them.
People think terrorist.
Jihad tattoed on my wrists.
I'd rahther read my prayers.
Ignore those that demean.
Or laugh at faith.