Truth’s Unyielding Grave

Dr Ranbir Laishram

He who distorts history,
buries it deep to rewrite the score,
thinks time’s his puppet,
facts his to ignore.

But nah.
Time don’t play.
It’s the world’s oldest judge,
no bribes, no delays.

Empires tried it—
erased names, redrew maps,
called invasions “peacekeeping,”
called bombs “gifts,”
lies “progress divine.”

Burn the books,
jail the tongues,
delete the proof from glowing screens.
Earth keeps receipts:
ice holds the heat,
oceans the oil,
forests the screams.

Global truth is not a headline
you can spin or delete.
It’s scars on survivors,
songs in the street.

Distort the past?
You’re signing your fate.
Future kids’ll dig it up,
call out your hate.

Your statues?  Questions.
Your wins? Just dust.
Time buries distorters—
unforgotten, unjust.

Generations unborn
will rail against your name,
speak the truths you erased
like fire, like flame.