A rebel is I, a rebel is me.
An outcast is what others may see
But I am no outcast maybe a loner, I suppose.
In actual fact a rebel with very good cause.
Rebel against the social norms, that say, I can’t wear the things I likes as they’re too comfy, too bland, too me.
Rebel against the social norms, that say, I should be married and settled by thirty.
Rebel because you have a point to make, a voice to be heard that will not shake.
Rebel even if it kicks up a fuss, rebel even more when you see treatment that is unjust.
Rebel for those that can’t do it themselves.
Rebel for the people who have never won, rebel for those who are trampled upon.
Rebel for the rebels that march to their own song.
Rebel for the people who are quiet and shy, rebel for those who needlessly had to die.
Rebel for the children that are hidden in plain sight, by people who put darkness into their light.
Rebel for the elderly who are lonely and afraid, rebel for the homeless person who’s barely ate.
Rebel until you can rebel no more.
Cheering on the rebel in everyone you know, from the little girl who was too afraid to say, to the man whose wife was wrongly taken away, to the victims of a broken welfare state, to the parents whose child is awaiting a diagnosis that is a never-ending wait. To all those people who are just behind the rebellious flood gate. For a rebel is I, a rebel is me. A rebel can be, whoever they want to be!