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A Deformity

I call it a deformity, I call it the spoken word,
Many long to see the face of rich men,
The diamonds are a facet of their everyday lives,
For jewels abstain from the many scratches and bites.
A standard face is applied, wandering is a lie,
For the water carried by the dozens of helpers weeps.
Strange eyebrows are pages of material,
In a way we call a religion or faith.
It is not me who sings tonight, justice sings today,
Forming a deformity so peaceful and delightful and delicious.
This may cause the mind to wince and swallow,
But then noses and mouths shall be speaking one day.

poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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