The Last Blunder

The walls are imprisoned in silence, A heavy, powerless silence, shattered By voices, tears, and crowded souls. Justice hides in the corridors of greed, Crimes are sentences uttered in the halls, The innocent are moving targets, An age-old burden on the backs of those who did nothing. Must we remain silent to breathe under this weight? Must we bend so we are granted the privileges of movable goods? Justice, you are that specter, that dying chimera Under decrees written with bloodstained hands. Their decrees no longer smell of truth, But of the ash of a society lost in lies. There, in the shadows of the courtrooms, The law twists and bends, It is sold by the gleam of a bill, The tribunal of crushed roots. But where is your clarity, oh justice? In what folly have you lost yourself? You began to sell bodies, to buy corrupted souls, Your weight is that of shackles twisted to better wrap them around. Far from the scales, you tremble under the weight of injustice. You still call yourself Justice, you still believe in equality, Like an old relic tainted with lies. You condemn those who do not even have a voice, You crush the witnesses of a world that has looked too much without seeing. The accused, those shadows behind bars, They are the slaves, the oppressed, the ghosts of a silent war. What have they done? Woken up too early? Asked for food, or just existed? And you, how dare you judge them? The judges have become demons with their ties well pulled, The steel hammer has fallen, but it is the heart that has shattered. Trials are no longer searches for truth, But chess games where the pawns are human lives. The lawyers, gladiators of the system, Fight not for freedom, But for an illusion that crumbles like dust in the air. You want us to cry tears already dried on cold faces, That we have learned not to look at. You want us to be silent under the weight of your frozen rhetoric, But you only drive the nail of contempt deeper When you condemn without proof, When you make innocence a crime. Is this the law of your world? A sentence without foundation, a verdict without heart? Prisoners are not numbers in your registers, They are bodies, lives, stolen dreams, broken souls. But you keep twisting the laws, Blackening blank pages with lies inked in blood. You, institution built on the sand of power, You have no humanity as your foundation, Only the arrogance of a system rotten from the inside. The doors of the palace of justice close on strangled screams, The tears are whispers suffocated under layers of paper, And the victims have no voice, only open wounds. You, silent executioner, you have taken lives without seeing them, You have written chapters in the dust, When the truth was there, naked, under your nose. But the voices rise, like an angry sea, The broken voices become waves crashing against the walls of power. Memory cannot be erased, Names cannot be wiped out, The faces of the innocent will burn in your nightmares. The blunders, the injustices, are a cry etched in history. We are the echo of a revolt you cannot silence. So, what will you do, judge? When the walls of your ivory tower begin to tremble? When the lies you've woven tear under the force of truth? You will still cling to your robes, But the flames of anger will burn all around you, And you will then understand that justice is not for sale, It cannot be manipulated, it cannot be corrupted. It is lived, it is breathed, it is defended. And the voices of those you wrongly condemned Will be the storm that sweeps away your silence. For souls are not broken, They rise, stronger, more powerful. You do not have the power to erase the traces of your crimes. You do not have the right to silence the truth. For the truth, it screams in the streets, It howls in the courts, It tears apart the chains of lies. You are not the master, You are but a spectator of your own shipwreck. And when the time comes, Your silence will become the final blunder you failed to see.