When times were bad and people hid
In basements, for their words were felt,
In caves, in attics, fearing for their lives,
That’s where they found what freedom meant.
We speak, not for ourselves, but for
The ones that can not speak.
No word should ever need to bend,
No pen should stop.
Don’t let them silence you, my friend.
Know that your mind is free
And that there are some people here
Who read, who think. Not “they” perhaps, but we.
for all people who can’t publish cartoons of their choice