You keep telling people the country is under siege –
that immigrants are flooding in, that Muslims are plotting,
that anyone who looks different is some kind of threat.
Don’t you ever stop to wonder who gains from all that fear?
And you keep insisting that unity is just waiting around the corner,
that we’re all in this together, that the poor will be lifted up
as long as we believe hard enough.
Don’t “you” ever wonder who gains from selling hope without results?
Fear at least wakes people up.
Your side turns every difficult truth into a warm, fuzzy slogan.
You talk about solidarity like it’s a cure,
but half the time nothing changes except the branding.
Wakes people up?
Your fear turns human beings into monsters –
whole communities painted as criminals, outsiders, dangers.
It flattens reality so you can scare people into listening.
And your hope flattens reality so you can avoid hard choices.
You say everyone belongs, but you never say how.
You talk about helping the poor,
but systems stay the same while you polish the language.
You act like admitting complexity is betrayal.
You’d rather people panic than think.
And you act like optimism fixes anything.
You’d rather people dream than notice the cracks beneath their feet.
Maybe because I’m tired of people being treated like threats.
And maybe because I’m tired of people being promised the moon
when they can’t even afford the rent.
So you think I’m naïve.
And you think I’m cruel.
Maybe we’re both just avoiding our own blind spots.
Maybe fear and hope are both easy ways out.
Maybe the truth lives somewhere messier –
in the parts neither of us wants to look at.
Maybe we’d find it if we stopped performing
and actually started listening.
Maybe.
But listening’s harder than lying.
Yeah.
And that might be the one thing we actually agree on.
