Welcome to Poetry.com
Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.
Why do people play with blood when it gives no pleasure and only pain?
Why do people wag a war when it gives only losses and no gain?
Why do people play with mud when it never tones up but tarnishes their images?
Why do people play the blame –game when it never solves the problem but increases?
Why do people hit the greats when it gives them less fame and more blasphemy?
Why do people create controversy when it gives less positive and more negative publicity?
Why do people lie when do they know in it there is only ugliness and no beauty?
Why do people do jealousy when they do know that it shows their own bankruptcy?
Why do people lick the legs of power when it shows their weakness- the sycophancy?
Why do people do hypocrisy when they do know that they are telling lies?
Why do people heed to the greed when they do know the sweetness of life dies?
Why do people fall in lecherous lust when they do know it eats their own flesh?
Why do people play tricks when they do know that it shows only their foolishness?
Why do people do corruption when they do know it is the selling of their souls?
Why do people do nepotism when they do know it is the quality of them which falls?
Why do people love more self than any one else when they do know it is a disease - narcissism?
Why do people hate people when they do know it is the murder of humanism?
Discuss this abdul wahab poem with the community:
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Why do people play with blood?" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 31 Jul 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/91194/why-do-people-play-with-blood?>.