Apr 16, 2025
Oh, they shout, they scream, they rage,
Like they own the world, center stage.
But when I fire back, they play the part,
Of saints so pure, with a fragile heart.
They’ve got the volume, I’ve got the right,
But suddenly, I’m wrong in their sight.
"Who gave you permission?" they snark and sneer,
Like my voice wasn’t made to be heard here.
They yell, they curse, but I’m the one banned,
From raising my voice—ain't that so grand?
No license to scream, no ticket to fight,
But somehow, I’m wrong for claiming my might.
