Naturally my neat handwriting <br />Carries me further than the rest. <br />The caressed mothers dress to obviously <br />Believe in criminals and malefactors. <br />In their breasts is a detested one soul. <br />In the cities of nectar there digests <br />Feeling upon feeling, of emotional reactions. <br />The blessings of the chest from others <br />Is like the forced turning of the pages of a book <br />Or any volume you care to consider. <br />We have conversations too polite <br />And true to reality, yes sir!<br /><br />Naveed Akram<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-neatness/
