Oppressive regime meets Indian GenZ's soft power: A poem

 

Oppressive regime meets Indian GenZ's soft power: A poem

The suits sit high in gilded halls,

Where shadows stretch and ink is bled,

They send brutes to pace GenZ walls,

With bitter words and heavy tread.

They call GenZ spirit wild and torn,

They paint youth's zeal as lawless night,

To make the truth look pale and worn,

And dim the morning of new light.

It is a dance of cold design,

To cage the dream youth dare to hold,

To trace a dark and jagged line,

Where honest voices once were bold.

Oh, keep free-spirit a steady flame,

Though rulers claim your cause is wrong;

They fear the truth that knows no name,

The rhythm of youth's rising song.

For strength of all that must be free,

In testing winds youth stand their ground;

The zest of GenZ legacy,

Is in peaceful protests already found.