When does a revolution take place,
I often wondered how it can take birth,
Getting to know all the stories,
Which bordered between myth and horror,
My mind never thought that one day,
That revolution might knock door of my life,
Sweeping me off my feet along with it,
Right when I was drowning in a whirlpool,
Made of constant oppression and abuse,
With my morale and will down,
Drowning until the knock on the door was heard,
The shaking hand raised to form a fist,
Realizing that whatever power one wields,
Is valid only until you assume it has over you,
That the respect is not demanded from others,
But is given and to upheld it is burden of receiver,
Once you break out of this mental jail made of straws,
One might wonder is this freedom in final form,
Or is this just another layer inside an onion,
Maybe this is why it is called a revolution,
A never ending endeavor like our own Earth.