The Village is crumbling and brick by brick
the sound of disparity is loud and thick.
Our babies are crying, their faces are red.
All ages are dying and losing their head
over things that should not be.
There’s nowhere to run, yet everywhere to hide
and when the day is done there’s a great divide
between the roots and the barren tree.
As impossible as it seems, it is a probable extreme
and a source of anxiety.