My Unrest Poem by Mohammad Muzzammil

Pain grows sometimes behind the chest,
That makes unrest inside of me,
Then my surroundings I begin to detest,
Like a hungry lion left in the lea.

The sorrow is greater than the joy,
Like night heavier than the day,
Stable in darkness of failure, coy,
And tired, hungry forgot the way.

I'm here but nothing is mine,
Every laughing face hides a pile of grief,
I know not when my fortune will shine,
But seeing others, I see a sigh of relief.

Short lived man has works great,
Underneath which he lies down,
Time is narrow so not to wait,
Jump into the ocean of grief and drown.