The tyrant

 

Love barging into the heart,

breaking all defensive barriers,

occupying the fort,

gloating on the throne,

giving orders like a triumphant autocrat.

 

Then its soldiers creeping up the chest

to fight the opposing armies in the throat,

The battles in the narrow pass,

Defeating the vocal cords,

Disarming them

and ordering them

to sing the sovereign’s songs.

 

Love has to acquire all,

Its rampant armies

have to march still onwards

to twist the lips to make them

casting molds for its signature banners;

to paint the cheeks with its trademark blush;

to pour possessive light in the eyes;

to put filters in the ears

so that they hear only its eulogy songs.

 

Finally the marching army

creeps into the head

to win the final frontier;

to beat down the strains of reasoning,--

the last rebellious regiment.

 

Love wages an all-conquering war

to change everything

as per its whims and fancies,

What a sweet tyrant!

What a stern dictator!