To Be Cured - Poem by Naveed Akram
You accuse me of corners too tight,
Living a lie that was demanded of me,
But when do shoulders visit and dismay
The liars who perpetrate the crimes to be.
You sway and dash like a river into its sea,
With me you swing and search to see if needs are met.
The real religion is a faith of certain epic nature
That I trust and hope to suffer for all the days in my life.
To accuse me of slander and backbiting
Is next to enslaving my body to the rigours.
It is a regime that ordered me to be good,
To be effort and comfort, and to be all that cured.
Comments about To Be Cured by Naveed Akram
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.