“We Built, and Broke”

We carved our names into mountains bold, With iron hands and hearts gone cold. The forests whispered, “Do not forget,” But we paved them under with no regret.

We lit the skies with neon stars, And silenced birds with electric cars. We drained the rivers to fuel our race, And called it growth — a proud disgrace.

We built our towers, tall and wide, While ancient trees fell down beside. The breeze once spoke in sacred rhyme, Now chokes on smoke and dust and time.

The oceans cry with plastic pain, Their songs drowned out by profit’s gain. The fields once gold with life and light, Now wear the gray of man’s twilight.

We chose machines, we called it fate, Progress dressed in a poisoned state. But in the mirror of broken skies, A child still asks with tearful eyes:

“Did it cost too much to win the world, If we had to burn the garden first?”