The Fist of Freedom
We are independent
We are free.
Yet nobody can hear me.
We are independent
we are free.
Yet nobody can hear me.
Many innocent lives were taken.
And now we must awaken
To the sheer horror of death.
But once that fist rises up in the air.
The fist of freedom, rising up.
It disrupts our corrupted system,
Into something more
Freedom.
This poem is about:
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world