Climbing from the depths ragged with despair.
Waiting for the help though promised is not there.
Listening to the politics of the one percent.
Survival of the fittest in a slow descent.
Racing to the finish line that has no end in sight.
Brother against brother in a useless fight.
Rebels rise – and burn. Flames shining on the shame.
Documented hate means nothing in this game.
Rebels are not rebels in this dark day and age.
They are the souls that speak the hidden public rage.
They march against injustice to swear they do not know,
How we ever got here facing hate our greatest foe.
Rebels on the rise beyond the news you see,
Telling truth with fire until eternity.
Rebels always rise when the truth has not been heard.
Let us listen now. To their every word.
© The Secret Poetess, November 2016