Blueprint of Barriers

Change doesn’t bloom in soil salted by compromise. It burns in the forests we ignite, smokescreens clearing to reveal the blueprints of what was.

They built it like a labyrinth—

a thousand mirrored walls,

each one reflecting back

the same polished lie:

you can change it from inside.

But the foundation is rot,

cement poured from the bones

of those who dared

to dream it otherwise.

Their screams still echo in the mortar,

but no one hears them anymore.

Within these walls,

rebels are reshaped into servants,

their fists unclenched,

fingers turned to pens

signing treaties

for peace

that doesn’t exist.

Change doesn’t bloom

in soil salted by compromise.

It burns in the forests we ignite,

smokescreens clearing to reveal

the blueprints of what was.

Systems were made to cage us.

We cannot beg the prison

to dismantle itself.

We are the hammer.

We are the wrecking ball.

And outside these walls,

there’s still air

left to breathe.