TRAGIC Poem: The Unseen Truth, by Alina Khan

Odyssey spent his life
pleasing the Greek gods,
slaughtering all their demons—
just for them to mock,
like the bride beside the bridesmaid, grace completely ignored
So when he stepped out of place,
they threw him with disgrace,
warning people not to associate,
A kintsukuroi left to admire the broken.

One error he made,
now forced to lie
in the bed
he accidentally made—
a crown of thorns perched for his own soul.

All it took was one mistake
for them to turn their face,
cold as the weeping angels that forget to breathe .

The noble make holy claims:
help others
before you meet the same fate—
but what if your hands are bound in unseen chains?

This they do not see.

Blinded by the stage lights,
taking the other actors’ rights—
each spotlight a supernova,
burning colour from the skin.

The audience’s praises—
fake applause—
like rain on a desolated earth,
hollow and slipping through fingers.

But what if there is no audience at all?

When giving parts of yourself away,
the fog begins to fade—
like the morning mist retreating darkness so it is never seen.
What is left behind?

Nothing but a disguise,
nothing but a disguise, an old cloak caught on thorns.

On stage, the soliloquy begins;
through the audience,
there is not a single skin,
only empty seats wedged within the silence.

Odyssey looks upon the stars and weeps—
if only they knew
how he used to leap,
like a wild flame dancing in the night.

Could he have overseen
how, in the end,
nothing he would be?
A ghost trapped between curtains,
forgotten where the lights seems to be.

The stage closes upon you—
until you realize
nobody was at the end with you.

You were stuck in this performance
for too long—

understand
how you were so wrong.

The audience may applaud
until they find a new actor
to adore.

You are the façade—
a hollow statue
who took it too far.