paint surrender black

we are the revolution

they preached
and echoed
the instruments chuckled
laughed
smiled in greeting,
servants to the voices,
to the chants
that echo
in which revolution is their essence
so where does the shattering begin
and where do we end?

or is our story not one for history?
have we been forgotten,
to the joy of the circus
to the sound of chewing
the bread they provided
where does the story end?
and where shall we begin?

we are what resides
what remains
in times of tribulation
the people's voices shall always echo

we
remain

our essence
our love.
our warmth

we are the power
we are the revolution

surrender has no place in our hearts.
i hold a white flag,
and i shall paint it black

we will always remain.