Re-Write - Can you evaluate this poem please?

786 – 13 January 2011 – Zahid from Pakistan

WHY YET WORKING MY BRAIN?

I live in a mud made house
Here I don’t have a spouse
My siblings are quite dead
They’re to serve me thread

Origin of our life is ‘crying’
Breaths: filled with sighing
My flesh under a leafless tree
Making me slander my plea

Why are my enemies good?
Why the hate in brotherhood?
Why don’t I die with pain?
Why yet working my brain?
 
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