Forget the cautionary calls for restraint —
this world doesn’t need saviors.
It wants hands that claw at the roots,
Sick fangs that grind old ideas to dust.
Ideas aren’t soft; they’re detonators,
charged and ready to shatter the silence.
You don’t repair a broken machine
by merely shining its rust.
The absence of thinking is a pandemic—
eradicate it like a disease.
Smash apathy with a hammer.
What we create afterward
is in our hands.
In this life,
of inevitable recompense,
of inescapable accountability,
for collective responsibility,
indifference to injustice
is not an option;
an epitasis, it is,
in this metaphoric
epic drama of life
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