in a world sewn tight in lines
where breaths are boxed and shelved
the echoes of laughter sound foreign
when it does not fit the mold
they call us strange for dreaming
for painting skies in furious colors
when they\'ve only ever seen grey
their eyes squint at the unfamiliar
to them, freedom is a locked door
and madness just a broken chain
but here madness is the wild sun
burning through the fog of sameness
they see chaos where we see truth
their silence cowers, we are roaring
we run barefoot where it\'s forbidden
for what is life without rebellion?