Watersome Poem by Naveed Akram

Watersome



He died of old age and not disfigurement,
Yet I loathe the bold character inwardly clever
Of a man who resides in the back of my head.
He kept stinging and fed me with jargon
That will need a fuel and furnace to last.
It is all in the water.......

Thursday, June 22, 2006
Topic(s) of this poem: water
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Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
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