Short Verse 2 (2)

Short Verse 2
No voice. No vote. Just ink on their hands, And a laugh in the throat.
Years later nothing changed
just the setting and the bills
They still take credit for our work
still stand on our backs for their thrills, The office
the band room, the diner night shift

same script swapped into new clothes
Our anger turned to ash on the tongue while their image grew.
But pressure builds under concrete, Under lockers
under bars
Every dismissed word we swallowed turns to broken glass in jars.

When the quiet kids riot
streets start humming like a power line on fire
No warning, just desks flipped, wires cut
smoke crawling higher
You ignored every hand that tried to raise a thought in your spot
Now that same hand holds the match and lets the fuse burn.

Think broken windows
Think slashed posters of your polished face on brick
Think message boards drenched in secrets you thought we would never stick
Not bodies on the sidewalk, Not sirens in the night
Just reputations dragged through alleys till they stop looking white.

You will call us ungrateful, call us insane
Pretend you never stepped on our throats for your gain
But every recording, every file
every late night text you forgot to hide
Has a fingerprint on it now that matches the rage you denied.

You wanted us silent. You got us armed. Not with guns
With harm to your charm. When the quiet kids riot
You learn real quick who kept you from the storm
And who just liked the uniform.