The House of Glass

They built a kingdom on shifting sand,
A palace of mirrors, slick and grand,
Where truth was twisted, warped, and bent,
And lies disguised as “common sense.”

They cried of freedom, claimed the crown,
Yet stomped dissent and tore truth down.
The flags they waved, red bold and bright,
Masked greed and fear disguised as might.

Grievances turned to sharpened blades,
Carved chaos deep in broken spades.
The past was painted as pure and gold,
While futures shrank, stripped, and sold.

They swore the righteous would prevail,
Yet whispered threats to tip the scale.
And those who knelt to power’s gleam
Became the cogs in someone’s scheme.

The heroes wore no gilded suit,
They bore no flags, they claimed no loot.
They stood with quiet, steady breath
Against a tide that preached in death.

And still that house of glass remains,
Cracked and groaning from its stains.
A monument to pride and rage
That traps its keepers in a cage.

For empires built on borrowed blame
Will crumble faster than they came.
And those who chant for strength alone
May find they’ve shattered all they’ve known.