It’s easy to shout when the gates fall down,
To curse the throne and burn the seal,
Easy to tear the banners brown,
Harder to ask who’s left to heal.
Fire feels honest, rage feels clean,
When you’ve never led what’s in between.
A broken chain feels light and fast,
Until you’re asked to hold the past.
Rebellion sings like a rising storm,
Quick to break, but slow to form.
Crowns are heavy, truth is not—
Rebellion’s easy, duty’s not.
You win the night, you claim the fight,
Then dawn demands you make it right.
It’s easy to swear you’ll rule with care,
With blood still warm upon the stone,
Harder to stand when the hungry stare,
And every choice cuts to the bone.
No cheers remain when the shouting’s done,
Only the weight of everyone.
A leader learns what rebels miss:
Every answer costs you this.
Rebellion sings like a rising storm,
Quick to break, but slow to form.
Crowns are heavy, truth is not—
Rebellion’s easy, duty’s not.
You win the night, you claim the fight,
Then dawn demands you make it right.
Who counts the dead when songs are sung?
Who feeds the child, who calms the gun?
Freedom’s more than chains undone—
It’s staying when the war is won.
So raise your blade, but mark the cost,
For every throne is something lost.
The world won’t bend because you fought—
Rebellion’s easy… responsibility is not.
