Rebel With A Cause

I am not reckless.
I am not aimless.
I am not teeth for the thrill of blood.

I am a storm
with a map.
I am wildfire
that knows exactly what it’s burning.

They want to say I’m lost.
That I run too loud,
too wild,
too far.
But I am running toward something.
Always.

My boots hit the ground
like a protest drum.
My voice?
It doesn’t shake when I use it.
Only when I’m forced to swallow it whole.

You call it chaos—
I call it recalibration.
You call it threat—
I call it truth finally wearing boots.

I am a rebel
with a cause
stitched into every inch of me.
It’s in my pulse.
In my purpose.
In the bite behind my smile.

I am not here
to behave.

I am here
to build something better
on the bones of what broke me.

So come closer if you dare—
but don’t mistake the shimmer for softness.
My shine comes with fangs.

And I only bare them
when I have to.