This Smiling Race Poem by Naveed Akram

I looked across at him now, feeling the pulse,
With the hold of a pen that curses and hurts
The individuals of the halfling-race.
These small creatures define what fine men
Naturally bring to the joyous occasions.
Be the reconstructive surgery of the beginning years
So that this small race is a small race!
One hurts the small race as the definitions are exact
Like excavations and the souls of their trade.
Feet endeavour to fasten their feet,
Hands occur to the majority.
Lesser men can connive a tragic invention
For in this place we look rough,
And in this real psychology swings the beastly bargain,
Looking across diligently, lagging a split second,
Not quite in particular, not even in particular.
The halflings are a sowing people
And love their peace when blessed by us all.