Poem: The Perfect Man | The WOW

He came to me; with a firm attitude

Trying to be verisimilitude

Yet I am no less than an observer

He underestimated me as a believer

He started brisking, bluffing being an elegant

For he does not know what is the secret of smartness meant

His good looks and richness does not at all matter;

For his soul is segregated and filthily scattered.

You ask me who is a Perfect Man?

The one who desires to make incapable can

He has affection for the indigent with firm and care

And in these holy deeds, does not have time to spare.