My Face

My face is never finite, never sound,
Like a reflection of the facial characteristics
All on my own.

May mirrors shine in the direction of the wind,
For the cold breath stagnates the air,
Being death and ruin.

My faces are numerous and severed,
In the unique sound we met,
Inside the sea of doubt.

Do not refrain from the speech
That your desires disgrace.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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