Here we are,
the mighty army of misfits
gathered together
and even though the threat of
torrential downpour looms over us,
the drizzle doesn't seem to matter.
We sing and dance,
chant poetry as if
it's a religious hymn.
This small voice in me --
withered and stripped down --
is no longer so.
With the voice of my army
we can crumble the mountains
that stand in our way,
part the oceans
that keep us apart.
Here we are,
the mighty army of misfits,
and we will not leave
without a fight.