Ice
Pound the ice with your layers of skin,
At the edge of screaming agony,
Forcing the convictions,
Going fuzzy in mind,
Making the blankets,
Bleeding with strictness,
And being better memory.
I try to pause for a moment,
Keeping numbers and letters
In my secrets and concepts.
I always test those ice-breakers
As they are machine-guns of anger.
My lead is my fire, my iron accuses
As the thrift of the pen has occurred.
Already, the small mirror shatters
Along the fiery plane,
Asking us a sanctuary
That bleeds like the heart.
A solver is in dispute,
One-digit numbers bring on
Harmony.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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