I laugh on buildings that creep, <br />They creep up on hills that weep. <br />I fail to see sights that are so wild, <br />For the houses are not mansions nor child. <br />They boil in an afterlife, forced to cry, <br />So that children feed on electricity to amplify. <br />The amplification of hills is strange, <br />Their huger size is for us to arrange. <br />Down the street is a criminal, <br />Beautiful life is the one abnormal.<br /><br />Naveed Akram<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-build/
