Poetry from Don Bormon

South Asian teen boy with short black hair, brown eyes, and a white collared school uniform with a decal.

July Student Protest

In July’s heat, the streets awoke,

With chants that split the silence, broke.

Books in bags, but fists held high,

Students marched beneath the sky.

Not for war, nor blood nor fame—

They cried for justice, fair and plain.

Roads were blocked, but minds were clear,

Truth, not fear, drew them near.

From Dhaka’s heart to village square,

One question echoed everywhere:

“Where is worth if lives are cheap?”

They rose for those who could not weep.

Shoes on asphalt, banners bold,

Their anger young, their courage old.

Tear gas clouds could not erase

The fire born on every face.

History turned with every stride—

A nation’s conscience amplified.

In July’s storm, they dared to be

The voice of truth, the call for free.

Don Bormon is a student of grade ten in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

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