Habits

Habits interest my cruelty,
Going like second nature
And the memory of size.
Through reason is happiness
Thrilling, winning and wonderful
To obsess.
Why do habits be so ancient?
And is there ending to few of them
That it is faced by them,
That I myself can have it anyway?
What? The habit. The habit.

Is it custom to endanger us with the wrong
Habits?

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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