shadows of the surname

name is born naked, pure, and free, So why append a chain of history? They stitch a surname to a breathing skin, To dictate where our borders must begin. A country claims a secular, wide sky, Yet structures walls to watch the living die. They map out value by a ancient mold, Determining the souls that can be sold. "Equality" is just a ghost they chase, While stamping lower status on a face. Caste is a heavy, bent, embarrassing frame, A generational machine of shame. "Learn from the seniors," whispers every room, But elders teach the legacy of doom. They slam the lower caste into the ground, And pass the bitter, heavy poisons down. What will this legacy of damage do, To Gen Z, Alpha, and the bleeding new? If structure requires a systemic floor, Why must the threshold lock a human door? Let seniority build a capable mind, Instead of leaving youngest hearts behind. Unfurl the blossom from the broken thorn— A flower needs no label to be born.