Through the City
Through a village there stands a maze to count,
I gather gold from this new city, and the amount
I can not care what it is, its description may change
According to times and magic for the wall to derange.
I fed a tunnel of love to those at bruise and bash,
These are special, these straightaway are a lash,
Like a flogging arena is taking place, and no gold,
No gold for the punishment, forming laughter so cold.
The whipping carried me forward, as a veteran or victim,
Life matched living of a far away land, the mixed and fearsome.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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