Sympathy Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

In the darkly lit room
Hangs the smell of doom
As he babbles about his eyes

He seems bent on a mission
To paint a bleak vision
His elation isn’t disguised!

I’ve them aplenty
My eyes bloodied
In surgeon’s needles

Retinal detachment
Cataract
Glaucoma

There isn’t a trauma
My eyes haven’t suffered

His eyeballs roll
On the sclera
In perverse pleasure

I don’t mind
If I go blind,
The misery around
Doesn’t make eyesight a treasure

I haven’t met a man
To himself this inhuman
Treating the most valued lens
With such immense disdains

More than my suffering eyes
He says in glee undisguised
I suffer your cruelty,

That’s when you say
It’s my way

To garner sympathy!