Bulwark

A land, a trademark of societal progress

Whose sweeping turf draws 

Both wonderment and skepticism,

Who dares to defy

The barracks which are

indicative of a thriving union,

The mechanization which enables directorial,

yet self-imposed autonomy,

The metallic pillars to which society

Is subconsciously detained by?

Such an act is improbable,

For the repercussions are fatal,

Feared by ordinary faces and 

Tempered with the level of mercy

Of an undaunted executioner.

But,

Should an ordinary face 

Develop an amber complexion

Held firmly with uniform disposition and

Presented brazenly visible, 

The authority shall maketh blue

And joyfully watch as its pervasive influence

Enters the mouth of the foreman

Where it is crunched

and embers cease to exist.