Disheveled thoughts madden
when I am alone
with impassive eyes I behold horrors.
I am at daggers drawn; my travails are untold
sporadic my enthusiasm.
The depth of love I scarcely fathom
I strike at goodness; I trample on others
only ruins remain for survivors.
Relations are falsely demonstrative.
Power is nothing but fleeting vanity.
Why is our faith in God losing ground?
"When I am born I will die" ---
that is ordained,
fires to ruins,
greed follows only grief,
pleasures are ephemeral.
Rubab Abdullah writes from Ohio, USA