Monochrome Blues

Dead hearts, still, a-pounding;

A silence so resounding,

Melodies of discord abound,

Where skies, high, below the ground

From shoal, depths, begin descent,

In summers of our discontent,

They dodge, deaf, deflections,

A mirror of reflections

A simple, sound, complexity,

A nimbly- knit perplexity,

A sin, sacred, sacrosanct

Ingratitude so duly thanked,

This light, this, opacity,

This hopeless audacity,

That temporary permanence

That gracious, gentle, turbulence

Alarmed, earnest, hypocrisy,

Anarchy in democracy!

Never again, left back behind,

This conservative, open-mind

This life, this, duality,

A figment of reality,

Perceptions through these concave lenses…

Yours estranged,

Con-vexed senses..

Pranav Mehta is student and likes to pour out abstract musings in monochromes and colour.