FINE EXCEPTIONS: DEFYING AGE, DEFINING VICTORY!

Every trial, a trail in my testimony, Every violation etched upon my victory ground.

At fourteen, I watered a federal dream with my hands,

Shouldered my youth to face the university gates,

The rules whispered — too young to belong,

I told the old fellow, my pen writes fine exceptions.

The gates quivered to yield, daring me to prove my years as I walked through.

Now sixteen, that federal dream breathes within and beyond federal halls.

Every trial, a trail in my testimony,

Every violation etched upon my victory ground.

And as I walk through these gates again, this time as a representative, my lips clasped in realization—

I came, I saw, I conquered.

—theade_verse