My last poem

When I break myself and 

write the last poem

 Then the flames of fire and a conch shell of the dead mind will adorn

 Which will be the last call of a man in love for today, tomorrow and every era

 That means his tear drop drop

 Which will be a blot on this world.

 Because the broken cry of a man is the proof of being dead.

 Which is inauspicious for time, circumstance and every relationship.