Soul And Disease

To accumulate a disease is so uninteresting,
It eventually misshapes your soul and health.
The talk to care for you is not over,
Old and new images fly over the mirror.
When disease breaks it relishes on the existing troubles,
And undoes the actions you speak about.
To disease I say there is no blessing, a blown one,
No blown blessing is there.
Like only the illnesses of minor impact,
This talk is insipid, we want more of the
Questions that matter,
Such as why do you have such a one?
The disease of today is not going away,
The vehicles of our days do let us rid them.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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