I Wrote This Instead of Screaming

They etched it deep in marble,
polished the lie with pride.
But freedom’s just a fairytale
when truth gets crucified.

They said the tongue is sovereign,
but only if you kneel.
They said speak your mind,
then taught us how to seal
our throats with fear,
our mouths with thread—
say it wrong,
and end up dead.

They call it liberty—
while torching what we write.
Call it harmless—
as they censor left and right.

Trump spews bile in gold-plated verse,
Kirk calls mass murder freedom's curse,
MAGA chants with bloodstained pride—
and dares to say we divide.

But I’ve seen what silence costs.
It’s burned in books,
buried in bones,
whispered in classrooms
where the truth can’t go.

Free speech?
It's a leash—
unless you're rich,
white,
male,
and mean.

It costs your job,
your safety,
your breath.
It costs your body in protest,
your name in death.

And still I speak.
With a tongue like a fuse,
a throat like a flare.
I carve my truth
where they pretend not to stare.

Because silence is the only flag
they truly let us wave—
and I will not
die 
quiet.