The Power of Black - Poems on Humanity , Social Cause - volume 1

IF YOU REALLY FELT SORRY

Don't just repeat POVERTY tirelessly and then feel remorseful; pathetically nodding your head; as if the most unassailable messiah of bereaved humanity,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then vanquish it forever from its very non-existent roots; and from even the most infinitesimal corner of the pompously rigid society.

Don't just spell POVERTY incessantly and then feel regretful; lugubriously crossing your fingers; as if all mercy had wholesomely disappeared from the trajectory of this colossal planet,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then unflinchingly surge forward to scrap even the most inconspicuous of its essence from this fathomless Universe; philanthropically mitigate all organism alive from its devastating stranglehold.

Don't just visualize POVERTY indefatigably and then feel destroyed; uncontrollably wailing like a scarecrow umpteenth number of times in a single minute,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then extricate it for times immemorial with the sparkling righteousness in your soul; enveloping even the most fugitively capricious speck of this globe with a wave of eternally resplendent compassion.

Don't just witness POVERTY intransigently and then feel gruesomely assassinated; nonchalantly sniffing your nose towards the heavens to put the entire blame upon Lord Almighty,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then behead it for infinite more births yet to unveil with the religion of humanity enshrouding your conscience; ubiquitously disseminate your happiness to all those unfortunately hapless and deprived.

Don't just whisper POVERTY unrelentingly and then feel like threadbare shit; abominably puking out even the last morsel of food from your languidly churning stomach,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then drive it away with the Omnisciently sacrosanct shadow of truth; ingratiatingly share the woes and overwhelming trauma of your counterparts and alien; beautifully alike.

Don't just memorize the spelling of POVERTY incorrigibly to appear for the examinations; and then feel like an infinitesimally sinful debris of ghoulish insanity,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then perpetually substitute it with benign love and care; inundating each arena of this insurmountably gigantic Universe with an ocean of celestially humanitarian empathy.

Don't just reminisce POVERTY insatiably and then feel exonerated; collapsing like a frigid matchstick towards obdurate ground; with your head timidly sunk like a dastardly rat between your legs,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then patriotically blaze ahead in the truly scintillating spirit of mankind; diffusing the melody of symbiotic existence on every step that you holistically transgressed.

Don't just cry POVERTY endlessly and then feel like the demons rotting in coffins of crucified hell; eventually dissolving like a chunk of soggy pulp into your own disappearing shadow,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then hoist every uncouthly trembling entity upon your splendidly benevolent shoulders; Omnipotently enveloping the every trace of coldblooded savagery with the ointment of passionate love.

And don't just write POVERTY timelessly and then feel like the most hapless livid entity alive; trying to mercilessly chop your own foot when infact there wasn't the slightest trace of axe around,
If you really felt sorry from the bottom of your heart; then replenish its penuriously castigating grave with an unfathomable river of love; enlightening the life of every despicably beleaguered human with the rays of Godly mankind.