via Reuben Inocando, Pressroom PH
In the corner of a quiet room, beneath a flickering light,
A student sits in silence, preparing now to write.
With ink-stained fingers and thoughts that burn,
they write the truths at every turn.
Not just paper handed in for a grade,
not just a draft someone lazily made.
They write headlines — for loud,
In every line, a stand is laid.
We are the eyes behind the unseen stage,
the voices have echo beyond the page.
Not heroes, but seekers of what’s real,
writing the pain they try to conceal.
And as they write, it feels like they’re crying,
their hands shake with rage, their heart silently breaking.
Writing like they’re bleeding — for a world that forgot how to caring.
When others stay quiet, we choose to ask why —
why injustice is rampant or denied.
And when they write headlines, they write justice,
for what?
Defying silence with every sentences,
and feel shout out!
Keeping the spirit of freedom revived,
while others erase, and we uncover to shine,
with every byline, we draw the line — every headline.
And if they silence us, try to drown our voice,
still, we will write — not because we have no other choice.
For as long as one student dares to speak,
the truth survives or strong, not weak.
So here’s to the pen that never folds,
to the newsroom dreams that fire holds.
To those who write headlines, and they write justice —
the campus press, have freedom to speak.
