Gather up stones

O youth of my land, gather up stones, Not for the mob, nor for bloodied thrones. But to build a revolt, one fierce and true, For the chains of complacency tighten on you. You scroll through life with the fastest finger, A protest born in banter, yet never lingers. Vitriolic words spill, sharp as knives, But no steering strive to alter our lives. Responsibility fades, drowned in jest, A hypocrite's hymn sung at oppression's behest. Quick wealth tempts with its hollow gleam, Shattering the right to a collective dream. Responsive hearts now grow cold and numb, While the cries of the fallen beat like a drum. What reaction stirs, if not to suppress, The spirit of change in our shared distress? O youth, awaken! The time is dire, Fan the embers, ignite the fire. Not mobs of chaos, but minds that fight, With wisdom’s torch, reclaim the right. Revolt is not rage, but courage refined, A call to rebuild, not to undermine. So gather up stones, not to destroy, But to shape a future devoid of ploy. No more banter, no more jest, The weight of change lies on your chest. Steer the strive, let action take wing, And to your own anthem, let freedom sing.