The Stars Are Brighter Poem by Naveed Akram

The stars are brighter than the swords of death,
Deaths are overbearing like the heavenly burden.
They request their deaths at every war,
His orders are supreme for the arrows have hit,
The targets are swollen from the hurt that arrived.

To be saturday and sunday is the war,
To be other days is the struggle,
And deaths sow their seeds in the soil
So ploughed by the ploughmen.

Targets are lost, targets are gained by the thermometer,
A real heated instrument that measures pain;
To the table of love was the pain,
A sane man has uncovered the real pain.