Shishir Gupta Poet Free verse

Shackle Sympathy

It struck me pathetic,
that scores should ridcule me,
for inanities and frivolitities,
and look for sanguinity,
where there was only icy clear ash,
I had grown by numerous pricks so thick,
that nothing ever pierced inside,
and pained in any manner,
the life had beccome such a stage,
where I enacted my mechanical roles,
as if I was a fallen tree branch in quagmire,
with life enough only to rot away,
there was no messiah that could lead a hand,
and lift me clear out of it free,
wherever I turned I found them struggling,
wrigling ,irked and peeved like me,
in the very same marshes of"life",
and I was convinced my sympathy was not lost,
for nothing for those who had lost perhaps everything.

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