Saturday, September 21

A voice pierces through singularly,
a discordant sound above the waves
While millions sit
I rise to my feet

All eyes train my moves
as if I were a grenade about to POP




denied my human right
I stare at them and ponder hard
knuckles turn white

but even if I stand
and no one stands with me
I still my pounding heart
I breath my quiet breath
I lock my knees in protest,
for I am not alone.

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