Just A Fluke

Silent fight, sudden delight over oil and fibre,
We cherish new faith of wool, of all the doctor.

Round and straight, around my little finger
Hangs much vision to be divorce, then linger.

My name terrifies none but the crude, the liars,
Who fix messengers on their face to tell dealers.

Clouded in vision stayed a demon to rebuke,
He is devil as often as satanic ghosts - just a fluke!

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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