When eyes turn into a mouth,
and many mouths spell the same,
they cook the scenery with spices
and serve it to mankind.
The superficial minds swallow it whole,
but the deeper ones search through the flavours,
tasting the raw truth beneath.
They take the news across minds —
bending it, twisting it, building it —
giving it a new form,
and pouring it into the pots of hollow heads.
Not all rumours are just rumours; some are truths wrapped in uncertainty.
This poem reflects how truth often gets twisted when passed from one mouth to another. Not everything we hear is false — sometimes, rumours are just truths hidden beneath layers of uncertainty.
