Unreserved.

This year,
I want to shout;
shout my slogans
until I tire.
Tell the world,
they don’t decide
who I choose to be,
what I choose to be
and, how I choose to be;
not anymore.

This year,
I want to cheer;
cheer for the women
for what they are:
Smart, strong and so surreal.
Crossing the ocean of hate,
bringing themselves up
every time
they are pushed down.

This year,
I want to squeal;
squeal with happiness,
shameless and unfettered,
at a child’s innocence.
Reminding you and me
what a joy
this life can be.

This year,
I want to
shout, cheer, squeal,
unreserved.
This year,
I want to make myself heard.

 Reservation

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