Scarlet Scar Poem by Neela Nath Das

The sun is down.
Behind the yard,
the leaves of the
drooping plants
are going to
close their eyes!
In the horizon,
the crimson ray
painting a scarlet
scar with its
atrocious stroke,
braces a cloud.
Cruelly, playfully
mocking at my every
action, emotion,
it bursts into laughter.
Setting me on a dish
enjoys my tear.
The scarlet scar,
the dynamic wound
colored with the
blood of every
diseased heart,
tinges day for
its coming night!