we built it on fractures, sand and cracked stone,
carving pillars from spite and callous weight,
sculpting foundations alone, alone
until the bedrock turned to dust, to hate; too late.
hands stained with ink, red and black and blue,
we drew lines, dug in, refused to relent;
each face turned inward, each choice untrue,
casting out reason in our blind dissent.
and now we stand in what we've built,
walls of division, towers of blame,
flooded with the sorrow we spilt,
each promise lost, each hope aflame.
here we are, casting shadows on tomorrow,
hands full of promises that slip, that scatter.
we choke the soil, sowing seeds of sorrow,
laughing, unaware of what’s soon to shatter.
goodwill's a bridge worn thin, but we don’t care;
we tear down the home, brick by brick,
chasing short fires that burn out, putrid air,
leaving smoke thick as the choices we pick.
the future dims in the haze we create,
a gray we think will lighten by our might.
but every handprint stains it darker,
every flame leaves behind a harsher night.
and so we pledge, hand on heart, eyes closed,
to the land we’ve remade in our own shadows.