Why Love so Unfair?

Those who can love

And could find their halves

Are fortunate Or so.

Never they preach

About oblivion they seek

A soul mate on each bow.

I, where careless tears shed

To find a mere resolute, fade

Into fanciful moisture_

Fumes of insecurity,

Surreal Impasse lit it,

Although for an emotional furniture!

In vain I Cry

For a thousand try,

To love in back of what!

With a face like Othello,

In just Shakespeare, it’s mellow

For Desdemona to spare a- ‘but!’.

Hope is lulling

And Age is calling,

The seeker is a fake;

Love is all,

In it you fall

Without a result to make.

Just like this,

My fellows beseech

And Imagination of their own.

It’s fatally rude

For me to be crude!

And state what is already known!

Background - "A faded oil paint, considered an abstract, portrays the unpredictable love"

The narration here is a normal guy, he just likes to state something that we already know. But the twist lies in his dialect, the imageries he used, and the comparison he detained, collided with the very unfairness of the subject 'love'.
The guy, the narrator is talking about is just frustrated with those who can find and switch between lovers easily without any account of self-anxiousness. They were merely prone to value little about the feelings of others.
That guy really subjugated himself over his looks and self-hatred. He doesn't know what is really wrong with him that he was unable to find his lover.
We can see a shift of narrative as it changes from the perspective of the guy to the narrator, who simply states his reasons for the insecurities of that guy.
It is his growing age that he fears and this time he is more like the fox who consoles himself about the grapes being sour, rather than considering his failure to attain it.
So in a true sense, the narrator is stating what is already known to us.

Imagination and Saptarshi