The heat of July brought a different rain,
A storm born of justice, a washing of pain.
The students arose with a fire in their eye,
Underneath the vast stretch of a burning sky.
From the gates of the campus to the city's heart,
The people united, no longer apart.
They asked for a merit, a future, a right,
Against the long shadows of a decade's night.
Abu Sayed stood tall with his arms spread wide,
A symbol of courage with nowhere to hide.
The bullets could pierce but they couldn't erase,
The look of defiance on a young hero's face.
The walls became canvases, colorful and bold,
Where stories of freedom were brilliantly told.
From Mugdho's water to the cry of the crowd,
The voice of the nation grew steady and loud.
The internet flickered, the streets were in flame,
But no one was silent and no one was tame.
The red and the green were held high in the hand,
To reclaim the soul of our beautiful land.
The throne of the tyrant began to turn cold,
As the power of millions started to unfold.
A second independence, a victory sweet,
Born from the rhythm of marching feet.