Ill Mothers Poem by Naveed Akram

Mother of ill fortune wets the sky with tears,
Munching air offered against status laws;
Moral certainty depicts decisions from air,
Air speaks tonight with breathing from us.
Let suns deplore the sentences of intelligence,
The moped of disbelief is around forming me.
Morale sends home the house, the wholly abusing
Family of light, offering us as Mankind the reality.
Moors disunite more so that rivers tell teeth,
Little men argue agreeably from the watered lakes.