Back-Stab

Ah friendship! To what depths can you plummet,
In the advent of your sombre twilight?
Does that back oozing red not highlight
The stark imminence of your sorry death?
Time was when you fed your morsels of faith
To a parched palate lying stripped of taste;
But all now fills this drab expanse of waste
Is the portent of your lumbering wraith!
Yes, I, the wretched king of ‘ungratefuls’,
Have seen you writhing in my betrayal,
Despite your standing by gold-tinted rules,
All of which, now consigned to history,
Has, doubtless, enticed the friend disloyal
To stab your back to end your misery.

©Asiman Panda 2007