Seven Words

Seven words, a comedian's quest,

to name the things the airwaves suppressed.

Not screams of hate, or lies that stung,

but syllables deemed wrongly hung

upon the public ear, so frail,

against a casual, vulgar trail.

He spoke them slow, each one precise,

a challenge thrown to censors' vice.

A list of sounds, devoid of might,

yet banned from screens both day and night.

A game of boundaries, absurd and strange,

where words held power, in a shifting range.

And laughter bloomed, a nervous sound,

as taboos crumbled on hallowed ground.

He questioned why, this verbal cage,

this fear of words upon the stage.

A mirror held to society's eye,

reflecting judgments, passing by.

Those seven words, now whispers free,

a legacy of liberty.

They stand as markers, stark and bold,

of stories that can now be told,

a reminder that the tongue, untied,

can speak its truth, with nothing to hide.