The Counterfeit Revolution

In the land of cardboard dreams,
the banners flutter,
printed on paper thin,
each slogan a whisper,
fading into the wind,
as the revolution turns its head,
with a grin,
snickering at the earnest souls
who march in place,
their feet shuffling to the beat of compliance.

Protests dissolve into confetti,
a kaleidoscope of colors,
raining down like hollow promises,
each piece a memory,
each flutter a reminder
of movements that never were,
celebrated with smiles
that mask the emptiness beneath.

The speakers shout with passion,
voices rising like smoke,
but the flames are mere embers,
flickering in the grasp of the status quo,
as the system claps its hands,
the applause echoing
through the hollow chambers of progress,
where the real revolution is buried,
deep in the chaos we fear.

Look closer,
as the cardboard fists pump in the air,
the faces painted in mock defiance,
for the fight is…