We shouted loud in crowded streets,
Where broken truths and anger meet.
With hands up high and eyes like flame,
We carried more than just a name.
No justice—just delay and dust,
A system built on shattered trust.
We bled, we begged, we took the fall,
And still they ask us to stay small.
No peace when sirens steal our sleep,
When mothers bury sons too deep.
When laws protect the ones in power,
And silence grows by every hour.
We're tired of waiting, tired of pain,
Tired of marching in the rain.
No table set, no open door—
Just echoes of the ones before.
We do not riot—we *remember*.
Every flame recalls December.
Every chant holds ancient weight,
Of lives undone by fear and hate.
No justice? Then don't ask for peace.
We are the storm that won't decrease.
Until the law serves every face,
We'll speak, resist,
and hold our place.
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