Reversal Poem by Quaid - Uz- Zaman

Every time I take an oath, I eventually break,
My hands are not clean, though I wash them well.
They gather dirt and dust from unknown sources,
Plunging me into unending suffering.

The more I fight, the less I taste victory,
As if I'm forever beating around the bush.
Corns and keloids grow within,
Feeding off my every vitality.

Now I see that nothing's wrong outside;
The true folly lies within my heart and mind.
The sooner I realize this truth,
The faster I can cleanse myself from within.