CAILÍN Street Verse

Threads of Rebellion

 

I write in stitches, ink in seams,

words that live where no one reads.

Concrete poems, concrete dreams,

painted loud on city streets.

 

A ripped-hem sonnet, raw and real,

worn-out sneakers, fate-sealed deals.

I walk like a verse with rhythm in stride,

each step a stanza, no need to hide.

 

Poetry drips from denim and tees,

handwritten truths in the air that we breathe.

Not just a trend, not just a phase,

but a story in motion, a movement ablaze.