Perspective

A poem by Achuthan Panikath

Tue Mar 10 2026

We must not think it through.
We might lie that we've been kind
The tears we blessed were due.
That ancient scars have contoured hearts
I'm but a virtuous desert drop.
Sinking songs might flip the script
Mere shadows of 6th grade glee
Peaked long ago; now almost home;
Worn shoes and listless dreams.

As white smears light on dreary sights
As darkness hides the smiles
I learn that pain is the yang of love,
As I swing between my calls.
I yearn to see the world in grey
These shattered jewels of plastic gems
If eyes deceive and brain concurs
What is truth to me?