A cold asymmetry,
where power exalts itself
above the whispering chorus
of those whose voices
are ground into the soil of history.

Beneath the weight of unspoken truths,
the earth splits open,
cracks no rain can heal,
but only the hands
of those who dare to see.

The structures of oppression
swirl like invisible nets,
cast over lives,
held tight in the stranglehold
of silence and system.

And yet-
in every shadow lingers a spark,
an unheard melody
that breaks,that aches,
that yearns for balance
where none is given.

Injustice,
not a thunderclap,
but a ceaseless sigh
that builds walls
in hearts that might have been free.