Chapter Text
We call ourselves "Homo Sapians"
We call ourselves 'Homo Sapians', meaning 'men that are wise',
But surely men of that degree would stop; look, and realise,
that the Earth is falling, withering against our grasp,
It's heating and sinking, and dying off fast.
People parade around dead streets carrying signs,
protesting and yelling that the world was dying before our eyes.
while men sit back on their fake thrones.
promising that "its Ok", that they will 'fix' the world,
fix the world that we've thrown.
So the protesters back away, take their winnings, and leave,
but nothing really changes; not for them, you, or me.
Modern life is a haze of lies, fake smiles, and empty stares,
Of pretending that "It's fine"; pretending that they care.
But it's not those men who will pay, not the ones in charge,
It's the next generation, the one with pure souls and hearts.
It's the children, the ones who will soon have it passed to them-
the weight of our situation, what the older ones left.
And they will ask questions, as young children all do.
Like "Why didn't we stop it," and "especially if we knew."
And these questions will be hard to ask, but even harder to answer,
Because we knew it was happening, we were just too scared.
Sacred to start to be the one to stand up before you
because change is hard, scary, and new,
But unless we stop now, fix the pain our ancestors caused,
Then it will just get passed down, as it had before us.
It's not fair, but neither is life.
And if we don't stop it now, then we may not have much time.
But the men with power, still sit on their thrones.
And the children we'll rely on are still treated like ghosts.
So, I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
After all this
Do we really deserve to be called "wise men"?