Aggression

The compilation of aggression is a far-fetched book,
It has bonds of degree, the findings are there inside.
Inside the body and its soap of heaven remains are clear
Over the waters of our own bodies, the corpse is clearly us.
To charm us please accuse and refuse once they appear,
Organs offered by us, we are donors, clearly repair the man;
Once the compilation is a commotion of sorts,
The pedigree of a man is hidden, concealed by him.
To refuse and interfere may bring bad luck,
As this furiously changes as if history has enlarged.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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