The Ignominy From Love. Poem by Subrata Ray

No otherwise was,
No solace from dedicated past,
And I had to walk with self –lighted torch,
Amidst the friend-faced, indifference.

Those sturdy hands,
Those formidability of swift feet,
Nurtured in support and shelters for dearest ones,
Now feel shame to receive commands.

Cowed I am by their rampant arrows,
Cut - and -start, start- and- cut -art,
And setting a face on the face for a face,
More of the catchy flower-girls in the red-light,
More of the poisonous missiles on innocence.
For my unequal, the Pity itself rises,
To erect a wall to hide my maddening trance!