In streets alive with masked faces,
Each soul trapped in their private places,
Eyes fixed on screens, oblivious to the stage,
Where Architects weave their subtle cage.
With media threads, they shape the mind,
And devices whisper what we\'re designed,
To think and see, a controlled parade,
Their influence hidden, yet pervasive shade.
In classrooms, lessons are carefully laid,
To mold the thoughts that we\'ve yet to trade,
Their unseen hands direct the play,
As we dance to their orchestrated sway.
But I see through the veil, a glimpse of truth,
A world of illusions, born of their youth,
A complex web of control and design,
The Architects\' grand scheme, so divine.
Yet, in this maze, a spark remains,
A chance to wake, to break the chains,
To see the world with open eyes,
And shatter the illusions that compromise.