Watch the youth gather.

If the firmness of their linked arms
and the unmoving resolution with which they plant their feet on the asphalt
are not enough,
you need only look behind their eyes;
see for yourself, the embers born from the ignition of a spark.

Watch the youth gather.

“To wear the vibrant colors of the sun and the sky is a privilege of the youth,”
their mothers said,
but today they choose to wear black.
Today they clothe the streets in a sea of black flame–
a flame made eternal by the blood of those who marched before them.

Watch the youth gather.

Armed with nothing more than paper and cardboard,
and the hoarsest of voices that shout out vows to never forget,
watch them clash swords with those who wield freedom as a weapon against those who granted them freedom.

Watch the youth gather.

Watch them.

Watch the sweat on their foreheads and the hair sticking to the back of their necks.

Watch their scrunched faces as they abandon the complacency of a smile for the gruesome reality of a scream.

Watch the way their throats move and their chests heave to the resounding beat of the drum.

Watch their clenched fists,
their shaking shoulders,
the flickering of the light in their eyes.

Watch them dig their nails into their palms as they clutch the future like a lifeline,

as they come to realize that when they were told they were the future, they left out the part where the future was something they had to fight for.

This is the youth that is tired.
But most importantly, this is the youth that is angry.

Watch them ignite.

– “When the cherry blossoms of youth are no longer appropriate, paint them black.” #NeverAgain



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