They are angry.
They gather in masses
On streets, in parks,
On benches they wait.
They are angry.
They feel their mouths
Have been muzzled and
Their words are swept
Away like garbage on the curb.
They are growing.
More and more each day,
On screens and pages
Their dissent, our dissent
Grows louder.
We are angry.
Yet still the suit and tie
Turns its back and covers its ears
Trying with its might to shut us out.
But we are angry,
We are growing,
And we won't be silenced.