We Are More Than a Hashtag

We are more than a hashtag, more than a trend,
More than a story you post and pretend.
More than a moment of digital rage,
More than a protest confined to a page.

The world sets fire, the voices scream,
For justice, for truth, for more than a dream.
You share the post, you change your frame,
You tweet the words – but what’s their name?

A life cut short, a face gone pale,
A story drowned beneath the veil.
The banners wave, the streets ignite,
But justice fades with morning’s light.

You posted once, you felt so grand,
Then washed the blood from your own hand.
You say you care, you say their name,
But will you fight or play the game?

The cameras flash, the world takes note,
The headlines scream, the leaders gloat.
“We hear you now! We see your pain!”
And yet the system stays the same.

A moment’s rage, a fleeting cry,
Another victim left to die.
And when the noise begins to wane,
The world just turns its face again.

The screens go dark, the posts decay,
The cycle shifts, the stories stray.
The trending topics fade like mist,
And justice slips from every list.

They claim the change, they take the prize,
Yet all we see are hollow lies.
A movement made for likes and views,
But not for action – just for news.

We are more than a hashtag, more than a phase,
More than the outrage that lasts a few days.
More than the photos, the pity, the tears,
More than the cycle that’s spun through the years.

We are the voices that won’t disappear,
The fists in the air, the ones you should fear.
We are the march that echoes through time,
The ones who will not be erased by design.

We are the mothers who bury their sons,
We are the fighters who stand and won’t run.
We are the daughters who know what was done,
We are the fire that won’t be undone.

We do not vanish, we do not fade,
We are the debts that must be repaid.
We are not shadows, we are not ghosts,
We are the ones who will haunt you the most.

So don’t you dare reduce our fight
To pixels glowing in the night.
To clever posts, to hollow trends,
To easy praise that quickly ends.

Justice is not in the words that you type,
It’s not in the stories you steal for a like.
It’s not in the moments that fade with a scroll,
It’s in the work – the blood, the soul.

It’s in the marches, the laws that we break,
The risks that we take, the world that we shake.
It’s in the calls, the fights in the street,
The hands that still hold, the drums that still beat.

It’s in the lives we swear to defend,
In battles we fight that may never end.
It’s in the rage that won’t go away,
The voices that scream – no, we won’t obey.

So tell me now, where will you be,
When no one’s watching, when none can see?
When the news has moved to something new,
When justice feels too far from you?

Will you still march? Will you still fight?
Will you still speak in the dead of night?
Or will you shrink, will you comply,
Will you let this moment die?

For change is more than words and pride,
It lives in all we must decide.
To burn the chains, to break the wall,
To rise, to stand, to never fall.

We are more than a hashtag, more than a plea,
More than a movement you watch then leave.
We are the ones who won’t be erased,
We are the storm that cannot be caged.

So don’t just share – stand up and shout.
We are still here. Don’t count us out.

 

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