The World Is A Ball Poem by Abdul Wahab

The world is a ball
Covered with leaves and paper
You born and live here
After death you go
No one knows, where
Nothing will be left
All things of you
Time will clean forever
You need a good ink
To make a good scratch
Which will make you walk
After death along with
Those who will be alive
If time fails to clean
The scratch from the screen
Then your life is successful
Other wise a short blink.