Abracadabra

I seem to spell different words in a way,
These signs are mine, too far away;
Financial worries belittle my blackened life,
Hosing the forest of black and brown so lowlife.
The charcoal in the upper eye contains my vengeance,
Continually it spurts danger at my absence.
Ghosts of coal do demonise the layers in my fabric
Animated by artists that aren’t academic.
My spell of magic and allurement amounts to weakness
Of the animal in me, it is my meekness.

by Naveed Akram

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