How we begin to fix it

Not with another border,

not with louder guns,

not with speeches polished

to hide empty hands.

We begin by seeing.

By looking at a child

and refusing to ask

their caste before their name.

By letting hunger shame the system,

not the starving.

We fix it

when a girl’s pain is believed

without conditions,

when justice runs faster

than power,

when silence is no longer taught

as survival.

We fix it

when work earns dignity,

when sweat is paid with bread,

when water is not a privilege

but a right.

When corruption is not cleverness

but crime.

We fix it

by dragging truth into daylight—

naming devils without fear,

stripping authority of immunity,

making leaders servants again,

not gods above consequence.

We fix it

when war is no longer a shortcut

for wounded egos,

when missiles are replaced

by memory,

by responsibility,

by the courage to choose peace

even when revenge is easier.

This will not be fast.

This will not be clean.

But it will be human.

It begins in classrooms,

in courts that listen,

in streets that refuse to forget,

in people who say

enough

and mean it.

Fixing the world

is not one revolution

it is millions of small refusals

to accept injustice as normal.

That is how it starts.

That is how it holds.