Sad Death

Sad are people who lie and give death,
Your sin is special, even though murder is not,
And deathly bridges are traversed by the spirit,
To accuse no one wrongly and no one is in fight or trouble.

Openly, gate has been served and automated,
Made and consumed by the people who eat,
Their living is again the standard of meat,
The standards of meat are greater and superior.

Gates must open for the guests who change,
They fix a notion on whoever is proud of joyous occasions.
Gates after gates are opened to the glad,
And speaking those notions may damage the very gladness
That doors bring, that gates sing.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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