The Conscript

The conqueror was a script,
I read him like a script;
He invaded my life as if to die,
And later he awarded me with death.
My cattle are not shrewd,
They need conquering like the baffled.
Let those who conquer me
Like being dead like the hauled men of Hell.
The written conquest delved into trouble,
When there was no trouble like death.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!