Spain

They're silent their lives,

under threat of being an unknown,

unfit for a society unequal.

They shout and are heard first time ever maybe.

Will their voices grow silent again?

This time with afony or the hushing they have been taught since occupying that scratched desk used as a sign of power and superiority hitherto.

Who has the power when all we have learnt is to criticise the criticisable and play when our insight begins to zoom in... We are young and malleable when taught. 

I felt powerful engraving my name in that desk.

A desk supported by flimsy legs that couldn't fall.

It has.

It has started now to capsize and my initials on that desk are just that,

but now initials -Oh young!- watching that first domino and shouting and I'm hoarse and my energy, like theirs, was drained 'til now.