When words are walls and gates,
and pages wear the mark of shame,
some voices tremble under light,
some ignite the dark with flame.
A sentence can be a crown,
a prayer, a warning, a key—
and still the hands of fear
will swipe the ink from what they see.
Books buried, burned, or whispered,
books that taught, provoked, or bled,
they haunt the shelves with silent cries,
they speak when we are led.
From ancient scrolls to scribbled youth,
from sacred texts to tales of sin,
every banned page is a mirror
of what we fear lies within.
So listen close, read the forbidden,
the hidden, the sharp, the true—
for in the heart of censored words
the world waits to meet you.