The minute of reconcile
The perturbed deep poetry from the inside
Laid on thin paper; breakable
As to rhyme and maybe harsh shine
Pardon me harsh life; I see you're an enemy, truly
If so, succumbing is not my heal
But to raise an arm when in pain, and lift the emotions out of self loathing
I raised a being; a human
With his arms, bones and clay
And what bes a form
Yet is tis the true norm
Of our lives
Yet is tis the true way of living in a human life
Yet who am I ?
And I raised that
And I lived by that
Years to come by; such that now I'm 24 years old
And I've still not realized
What God be, what this Earth be
To us humans; it's a loss because we didn't live life in accordance to the board as prescribed
Here on, we're helpless and breathless
Of God's pure gift; we need tis
The Holy, and what's in term, Holy truly, the mercy to the heart of a safe line to live by; with that of God; the dear book Quran