I Build

I laugh on buildings that creep,
They creep up on hills that weep.
I fail to see sights that are so wild,
For the houses are not mansions nor child.
They boil in an afterlife, forced to cry,
So that children feed on electricity to amplify.
The amplification of hills is strange,
Their huger size is for us to arrange.
Down the street is a criminal,
Beautiful life is the one abnormal.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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