Through a boggy haven was cut a swath three miles long. Into it you dumped tar and concrete, hate and fear. Standing so tall, even Death would tremble to take you. Running shoulder to shoulder with lions and wolves. But you're nothing. A pack of liars. Fakers. Cowards. Trapped now forever in this ghost town. Shambling spectres haunting these streets. Boundaries not set by concrete and bars--boundaries are set by neighborhoods and bars. You are paralyzed by apathy and cloaked in jaded elitism. Your wasted potential surrounds me, binds me, suffocates me. I yearn to retreat from your fortresses of bloated excess. My ears fall deaf to your stammering quips and shrill complaints. We stand eternal on the cusp of something great destined to always fall short. Decimation may be our only saving grace. Or will we stand eternal?