On a day the world is asked to see,
not shadows, but truth, not “them,” but me,
we gather the names they tried to erase,
and write them back in with stubborn grace.
Not whispered lives or hidden skin,
not quiet battles tucked within,
but voices rising, clear and bright,
demanding space, demanding light.
For every door that’s slammed too fast,
for futures questioned from the past,
for every stare that cuts too deep,
and nights that echo without sleep,
for every time the mirror lied,
and no one stood there on their side,
for every stare that lingered too long,
as if their being itself was wrong.
For classrooms filled with silent fear,
for homes that felt less safe than here,
for mirrors that once felt like war,
for names they weren’t called anymore.
For papers stamped with borrowed lies,
for shaking hands and lowered eyes,
for nights spent asking, “Will I belong?”
and learning survival could feel this long.
For jokes that cut but passed as “fine,”
for blurred-out lines of “yours” and “mine,”
for every time they had to pretend,
just to make it safely to the end.
And still they rise, they always do,
with quiet strength the world never knew,
not asking loudly, not demanding more,
just equal ground, an open door.
No borrowed names, no borrowed face,
no shrinking down to fit a place,
just living loud, just standing free,
just being who you’re meant to be.
And if the world turns cold, unkind,
throws sharpened words to break your spine,
we’ll be the fire, fierce and true,
a thousand voices backing you.
Because existence is not a plea,
it’s not a quiet apology,
it’s thunder, it’s breath, it’s right, it’s real,
it’s every truth you dare to feel.
So stand, be seen, don’t fade away,
the world will learn you’re here to stay,
and every soul that dares to live
is proof of all this life can give.
kianamaiart
jimmyeatworldofficial
origamiaround
vaporwave
titsay
2087
