silencedogood1969

[silencedogood1969]

You stood beneath a stolen flag,

a coward’s grin behind your mask,

breaking glass like you broke your oath,

spilling blood, spilling truth, spilling both.

The Capitol stood like a sentinel of time,

until you tore it down, crime by fucking crime.

The floors ran red where history walked,

and democracy bled as your chants mocked.

You came as a mob, a tide of rage,

hands on riot shields, fists on the stage.

Tear gas kissed the marble halls,

while “patriots” desecrated sacred walls.

Tarrio, you fucking coward,

Rhodes, you spineless son of a bitch.

Barnett, who pissed on freedom

while democracy screamed in the ditch.

QAnon prophets in horned disguise,

Nazis and “militia” with vacant eyes.

You called it liberty, called it war,

but all you left were shattered doors.

Then the ink of the pen, the coward’s decree,

fifteen hundred pardons for your fucking heresy.

Trump stood tall on lies today,

“Unify!” he cried, while justice decayed.

The audacity of that son of a bitch,

to pardon the mob and their seditious itch.

“Merit-based justice,” he dared to say—

yet he handed treason a golden bouquet.

He spat in the face of every cop who stood,

every drop of blood spilled in those halls of wood.

He pardoned the wreckers, the rioters, the damned,

and gave democracy its final backhand.

Where were you, McConnell, when the blood dried?

Where were you, Thune, when democracy cried?

Greene, you cheered; your voice rang clear—

you gutless motherfuckers, complicit in fear.

Your silence, your nods, your partisan games,

have carved your legacy into the flames.

You are the ghosts of this dying nation,

mute accomplices to its damnation.

And to you who stayed silent, stayed home that day,

clutching your morals as the country frayed,

spare me your protests, your outrage, your blame—

this fire’s on you; you stoked the flame.

You fucking stood back, let them torch the house,

and now you want to cry about the ashes.

Don’t you dare whisper a single goddamn word—

you let others fight while the country burned.

The tear of glass, the battering ram,

the fists that struck, the shields that slammed.

The cries of fear, the clash of will,

the officers falling, the chambers still.

They stormed the gates with malice bright,

and made a coup of that January night.

Freedom fell with every cheer,

the sound of treason in the atmosphere.

And for those who fell defending the line,

we carry their memory through space and time.

But let me tell you something, loud and true:

You may pardon the guilty, but we’re coming for you.

Two years from now, we’ll clear the House;

we’ll take your seats and call you out.

We’ll vote, we’ll march, we’ll raise our fists,

we’ll break the chain of your accomplice list.

And four years from now, your reign will end,

this nightmare gone, this wound will mend.

You’ve made a coup the morning’s norm,

treason an acceptable form,

but you don’t get the final say—

we’ll take this country back one day.

Traitors, cowards, you hollowed the flag,

turned stars to scars, left stripes to sag.

You spat on the graves of those who fought,

and shredded the ideals they thought were taught.

Your pardons are nothing, your names will fade,

while the strength of the people sharpens its blade.

This isn’t your country—it never was.

It belongs to the dreamers, to the cause.

So hear this now, from sea to sea:

We are America, the land of the free.

You tore it down, but we’ll rebuild—

your names forgotten, your dreams killed.

This is the anthem of those betrayed,

a promise to history: you won’t evade.

For every flag, for every vote,

for every tear in the words we wrote.

True patriots rise, unbroken, free—

the soul of this nation will always be.

We are coming.

We are rising.

We are America.

[silencedogood1969]

We built this.

Stone by fucking stone,

hand in hand,

marching through fire with blistered feet,

our hearts ablaze with the kind of hope

only the beaten-down can carry.

We ripped the goddamn chains off.

We made them see us.

From DOMA’s ashes,

we stitched rings around fingers

that had been empty too long.

We carved love into laws

that once told us to disappear,

turned closets into doorways,

silence into roaring streets,

and fear into the kind of joy

that makes you cry because you can’t believe

you’re alive to feel it.

We stood under the rainbows,

our faces kissed by decades of protest.

The ghosts of Stonewall whispered to us

from brick walls that still smelled of smoke and sweat.

We danced where others had bled,

and for a moment,

the world looked like it might finally love us back.

But now—

Now, this.

“I’m scared I won’t be accepted for who I am anymore.”

They shouldn’t have to say that.

Not now.

Not after everything we built.

“It feels like we’re moving backward.”

We hear you.

We see it too—

the way the clock ticks in reverse,

the way the progress we bled for

crumbles like paper in their hands.

“As a transgender student, this makes me feel unsafe.”

You should be safe.

You should walk through halls

without your own shadow threatening to choke you.

You should never have to question

whether you have a future.

“It’s disheartening to see the government take away rights from my friends.”

Yeah, it fucking is.

It cuts, doesn’t it?

To watch the world pretend it’s better,

then rip the foundation out

from under your feet.

And we can’t let you believe

this is how it ends.

We won’t let you think

this is what we fought for.

They ban the brave,

the ones willing to bleed for a country

that tells them to sit down and shut up.

“Not like that. Not in that uniform.

Not with those pronouns.”

And for what?

To protect what?

Children?

You mean the ones you’re leaving to dodge bullets in math class?

Sure. Protect the children.

But they’ll pardon the traitors.

The ones who dragged flags through the blood of officers,

smashed glass in the name of “freedom,”

and screamed for the heads of the people

who dared to protect democracy.

One thousand five hundred motherfuckers

who stormed the building,

and you shake their hands,

while we,

the ones who love in ways you can’t stomach,

the ones who fight in ways you’ll never understand,

are left outside your goddamn gates.

And then you have the audacity to call us the problem.

You stand at your podiums,

polished and righteous,

and call us predators.

“Protect the children,” you say,

like we’re the ones raiding libraries

or handing out AR-15s with Happy Meals.

You call us “extremists,”

but it wasn’t us smashing windows,

beating officers,

and chanting for blood.

You love to say the quiet part loud.

“Radical gender ideology,” you sneer.

“Groomers,” you hiss.

You don’t even try to hide it—you wear your hate

like it’s something to be proud of.

We see you.

Your laws, your bans, your bullshit smiles.

We see it all.

You’re scared of us.

Not because of who we love

or how we dress

but because we don’t need you.

We’ve always built our own homes

in the rubble of the ones you burned.

We’ve turned closets into battlefields

and parades into revolutions.

And you think we’re gonna take this?

You think we’re gonna sit down and cry quietly

like we used to,

when you called us slurs

and told us to bury ourselves alive

because the world wasn’t ready for us?

Fuck you.

You think Pride was a parade?

It’s a fucking war cry,

a love song that drowns out your bullshit laws

and your hollow prayers.

WorldPride is coming to your city.

To the steps of your Capitol,

to the heart of your power,

we’re bringing the millions you tried to silence.

We’ll flood your streets with flags,

our colors slicing through the rot of your politics.

We’ll kiss in your parks,

scream so loud you’ll think it’s thunder.

We’ll laugh and dance and live,

because we know what you don’t—

that your fear of us

will never outlast the joy we carry in our bones.

We’re not backing down.

Not now.

Not fucking ever.

We’ve burned before,

but we don’t turn to ash.

We rise,

we roar,

we remind the world who the hell we are.

You can ban us.

You can erase us from your policies,

your bathrooms,

your military,

your damn laws.

But you will never erase us from history.

And you sure as hell will never erase us from this fight.