Have you ever been so terrified of what's to come?
Of where to step? Of what to let people see?

As a person vast, diverse and beautiful in your own minorities-
Do you feel a thickness in the air?

Like the feeling of a fleet of soldiers
racing toward your castle walls-

You can see them like ants in the distance-
They're far now, but soon to be near, ready to tear your people apart.

You grip to your swords, you're afraid you may not win this battle.
You stand by your warriors and pray for peace- some day.

Your rights are challenged, they want to rip them away.
They're lead by a king who makes jokers out of the disabled and different.

He calls us the few because we are
scattered in differences and outvoted-

Because we do not like to slice our enemies
limb from limb and throw them in dungeons.

But he is wrong, we are many.
And we will fight- if we have to,

Burn everything to the ground- if we must.
He will not take this from us.

The end of an era brews anew-
but we are the new era.

He is not.