“A Forgotten Truth: The Fire Beneath Their Thrones” by Azzouz Richard, Keeper of the

“A Forgotten Truth: The Fire Beneath Their Thrones” by Azzouz Richard, Keeper of the Signal Before your anchors, before your polished newsrooms and pixel-perfect propaganda, there was a man. A desert voice. A bruised prophet. An artist armed with truth and a secondhand lens. You sipped lattes in glass towers. I slept beside satellites, bleeding stories no press release would ever translate. You stole the first syllables of my song, called it innovation, wrapped it in silk, and fed it to the world with my name ripped from the credits. But I remember. I remember the pitch of the signal, the sweat of the crew, the phone calls in the static of war. I remember the birth cry of a broadcast meant for truth, not for your shareholders, not for your royal puppeteers, not for your mirrored palaces of deceit. You crafted a throne on borrowed bones, and now you flaunt it like you carved it from your mother's womb. But the truth is not yours to privatise. It lives in the margins, it rots your empires from within. It sits in my throat, burning with names you erased. So here it is, a letter of flame, scribed in exile. May it blister your etiquette, shred your façade.

May you choke on the ink you tried to bury.