Rarity of Rebellion
With calloused fingers, and ink-stained hands,
A poet prepares for battle.
Searching for the calm in the storm,
Paused, poised, and still.
A deep breath in.. a long exhale;
Their pen becomes a weapon.
The power it wields, undeniable;
It spills truths, immeasurable:
The blood of a shattered Nation.
The pen: a weapon; a battle-cry.
Rallying masses to follow its lead.
Demanding justice, answers, and equality.
The poet, constructing, and carefully crafting;
Their words, building momentum.
Lighting a beacon, leading us all -
Towards a beautifully rare Rebellion.
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