The evil of Prakash: A poem 

How a ruthless evil has a trap and a lair 

The treachery of Prakash, that I always have to dare 

Yes, for endless time, he has made it for me a nightmare 

His tyranny and treachery is a stinging murky glare 

But I am profound, never-bound, without a sound 

There is hope and love in me, even if stalked by a hound 

I can find my way up, despite a very steep mound 

Even with the unjust heavy baggage, I will never turn around 

Does he think he can subject me, by laying me to waste? 

There is patience and resilience, even if nothing else to taste 

I do the heavy lifting, and he grabs it with hungry haste 

But I will never feel doomed; it is he who will be debased 

I have never asked for sympathy. Never felt: Poor me! 

I am benevolent as a cloudburst, thoughtful as a shady tree 

How like a shameless creep, he keeps imposing his tyranny 

To trap me, with sometimes the devil; sometimes the deep sea; sometimes both; so I am never free!