When you told them they could grab us, by our most sacred space, and when you let people die, you named your disgrace with the same brush as Mudd.
But you are < that.
When you let them fall, and watched it all, ate chicken by the first wings, and crawled into an office that means something to everyone, with lies on your lips.
You proved you were < this.
When you continued to hurt, rant and rave, without reason or heart, soul or saving grace, you stopped not only the rhythm of your people, but ours too.
You are <, and always have been.
When they announced that a new name will decorate the office that you never should have held today, we rejoiced.
We smiled, knowing the road may still have bumps.
We breathed, and we smiled. You are now an office <
And you will remain < symbolised by a single character, beside other names.
You, though, reminded us why every voice holds power. Why their voices are power. Why our voices have power, too.
You reminded us what the free world means. It is > any one person. It will always be, it will always remain you.
Every voice holds power.
Not just yours.
And they are,