The Nature Of An Un-Dead Man Poem by Naveed Akram

He threw the ball for five miles it reached,
The route to put the shot was black and dark
In the middle of a forest at night, fully dark;
It was perhaps what? It was a sacred instrument

But a silver bullet, one for the masters of least leniency,
He was to spread the monster of an un-dead nature
On the floor of the forest where the wild mushrooms were found;
It may be different, but this man was unfed by dread

And he left his soul to the dead, like a man who fed
The life of evil, and scourges happened from him,
He left the messages of old that were ours;
Just so that he did, he left us for he hated us, and when should he die?