It is Cruel

Cruel objectives spend their tactics
On food and war, the splendour of amazement.
The cruel work is continuous as lines in space
When production of war is up to it.
How do splendid people require a food?
Their cruel answers may pervert the cures
Of the modern man, but how do they feed?
My work is over, the selling of knowledge,
A brand new weapon of assault, for the unique
Who defend the country.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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