The Ungifted

You think rebellion is lovely?

Not all defiances are wrapped in flattering words

Or whispered through canvases.

Not all of us can so passively hush our screaming voices.

Silence cannot last forever.

Who will fight for the ones with hands too calloused from battle, incapable of beauty?

We march with the same rhythm of the drums between the words within poems,

But we march viciously, chaotically, restlessly.

Rebellion is not lovely.

It’s a war cry.