Joy Revolution

They said,

“Stay quiet, be proper, walk straight.”

But I was born sideways —

with laughter in my lungs and thunder in my heart.

I tried folding my wings

to fit into polite conversations,

but rebellion hummed in my bones —

softly at first,

then louder than applause.

Freedom, I learned,

is not a war cry —

sometimes it’s a giggle

in the middle of chaos,

a dance when no one’s watching,

a poem that refuses to rhyme.

I stopped apologizing for taking space,

for loving too much,

for dreaming without permission.

If the world wants order,

let me be the glorious mess

that blooms through the cracks.

Because revolution isn’t always fire —

sometimes it’s color,

a spark of silliness

in a too-serious world.

Today, I wear my flaws

like jewelry —

shiny, loud, unapologetic.

I toast to every version of me

that once whispered, “I can’t.”

Because now she laughs and says,

“Watch me.”

And if they call me too much,

too bold,

too free —

I’ll take it as a compliment.

The world needs laughter

as much as change,

and maybe

that’s how revolutions begin —

with a smile,

and a poem that dares

to breathe.