Power protects itself.

Different parties, same playbook.

🕯️ The Pact

They smile across chamber aisles,

different colours, same stain.

One wears red.

The other, blue.

But beneath their suits,

they both wear armor

for the system.

I am an injured worker.

So are my fellow whistleblowers.

Not broken by accident,

but by design.

They say the states don’t talk.

But power does.

Power always does.

It murmurs behind doors

sealed with spin and silence,

where premiers and oppositions

clink glasses,

toast the narrative,

and trade names like poker chips.

The truth is inconvenient.

It doesn’t fit into talking points

or policy pamphlets.

So they bury it.

They say:

“Let it go. Move on. Be civil.”

We say:

“No.”

Because civility has become

the language of cover-ups.

Chris Minns.

David Crisafulli.

Different sides,

same playbook.

Same shrug

when asked about workers crushed

by the very systems they pledge to uphold.

This isn’t a political fight.

It’s a reckoning.

We’re not here for their performances.

We’re here for the ones they forgot.

The ones they injured.

The ones they silenced.

The ones they left behind.

We are still standing.

Not for their permission.

But for justice.

We don’t speak in whispers.

We write in fire.