Alice stood in form Against the fabric of her being A three-syllabled stitch repurposing her body as one with the clade “I dissent” She stood firmly for the moment in category Crowning herself in the definition overhead A bittersweet extension through geography and time Her newly woven sentiment stretching across demographic, age In and out of every moment a new babe ever opened their eyes “I dissent” The image pressed firmly With an elusive momentum And with it, she felt both bolded and brazed by collective sentiment Resistance: heavy and worn from its generational strain “I dissent” In 3 syllables The chorus strikes an idiomatic pitch Rolling and receding Without origin or end Ringing against oppression with convicting subtlety "I dissent" Blending the lines between the individual and the whole “I dissent” A lighted contradiction Like a parlous pointed finger Exposing the outgroup As its insatiably seeks to fill The empty space of shape The bowls integrity falling flat "I dissent" How? She wondered Might something so integrous be made so egregious? “I dissent” Just how forceful can the opposition be made before it snaps? Why? “I dissent” Where are the lines of freedom drawn? For who? From whom? “I dissent” An echoed crusade as the notorious fell silent The batons passage falls from whence it came in the hands that formed its legacy "We dissent"