“Ink-stained fingers trace the lines,
A battlefield of words, not mines,
Where truth is spun, a twisted thread,
By voices paid, by stories fed.”
"Cameras capture smoke and flame,
A hero's face, a nation's claim,
The fallen, glorified in frame,
While silent screams go unnamed."
"Headlines scream, a biased cry,
The enemy demonized, the 'other' lie,
A narrative crafted, meant to sway,
As hearts and minds are led astray. "
"The journalist, a soldier too,
With words as weapons, what to do?
To fight the tide, to risk it all, to seek the truth,
Or dance with power, and own a narrative
That doesn't necessarily even have to be the truth."
