Mourn for the land where the people drift like flocks
And the guides lead them toward the cliff
Mourn for the land where truth is bartered
And wisdom is whispered only in shadows

Mourn for the country where noise drowns out thought
Where anger is broadcast and fear finds a stage
Where silence greets injustice
But applause greets the loudest hand

Mourn for the nation that cheers the strongman
And crowns cruelty with glory
That confuses domination for strength
And calls violence a form of pride

Mourn for the place that shuts its windows
To every voice but its own
That sees the world as smaller than itself
And mistakes ignorance for identity

Mourn for the land that measures breath in dollars
That feasts while forgetting its hunger for meaning
That sleeps deeply in comfort
While its principles slip quietly away

Mourn for the people—yes, mourn them—
Who trade their freedoms inch by inch
For ease, for noise, for the illusion of safety

My homeland, I weep for you—
Once a promise spoken boldly,
Now an echo, fading. ~OC