It signifies incapacitation, it makes you sweat from your soul,
And it needed learning and readjustment - it is called death.
It was enjoyed as a tale so twisted, igniting hazards afterwards,
Many fooled themselves by it, working a party of ignorance.
The need for such an adjacent and accompanying event
Is only there mysteriously, but what is the mystery?
Death has an aroma of eloquence, fitting to be called a scent
That is fed to the young and old, no matter what age.
May your legs and arms carry all that burden,
But let the end of our lives swear to modify the eternity.
Naveed Akram
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/incapacitated-soul/