She whispered once - we did not hear. She begged - and we burned. She bled - and we paved her veins with concrete. Now she screams. Tear down the towers she’s coming. Not in peace, not in grace. But in thunder’s jaw and ash in lace. Bury your dollars, kiss your screens she’s stirring oceans to split your dreams. No god will answer this kind of sin. You paved her spine, and she caves you in. Every forest you shattered returns as a scream. Every vein that you poisoned boils into steam. She’s not your cradle. She’s not your slave. She is the storm and she came to unmake. There’s a furnace in the sky where your lies ignite. There’s a cyclone in her breath that erases the night. Steel and neon your monuments fall. She’s sweeping the Earth and devouring it all. This is the flood, the flame, the fault. This is your legacy: empty salt. She’s not dead - she’s rising slow. A billion bones. And fire below. You called her mother. Then tore her apart. She returns not to heal - but to restart.
