Rebel

Their minds were shut and locked up tight,
Like iron prison doors against our luminous way of thinking.
They we're blinded, after dwelling in the darkness for so long.
Who are they to dictate what we should believe in?
Filling the empty pages of our pure minds and souls
With ignorant ideas
Written in the blood of the ones who had rebelled against them.
We must create a fortress of our own,
One that blocks their painful sharp criticisms.
And we mustn’t succumb to their old fashioned ideas
The ones covered in the desert dust of numerous past generations.