Cycles of Betrayal

Have we faith in our fellow man?
Or do we see only the disfiguration of our faces—
a slow, creeping erosion of trust
as the towers we build hover ominously above,
casting shadows that desolate our past,
stripping the wombs of hope from our future?

Is this history, or merely the echoes
of trust misplaced, of faith gone astray?
The trust of our future only betrays
the fragile foundations we believed to be solid,
an invitation to our own demise,
a path we tread blindly, eyes closed to the signs.

What we have been has waned,
a flickering flame, a light that dims.
The doing is done, and what’s done is gone,
a ghostly presence in the corridors of time.
Day after day, we are forever changed—
yet still we follow in our own footsteps,
circling back to where it all began,
trapped in the spirals of our own creation.

For the trust of one betrays another,
and what is faith but a promise to be broken?
An open invitation to betrayal,
a contract signed in the dark
with hands that shake and lips that falter.

Doomed are we to create where we stand,
to build monuments to our own despair,
and who we are in creating
is merely the architect of our own doom.
For in the act of shaping the world anew,
we forget that we, too, are being shaped—
carved into beings who cannot see
the ruin that blooms beneath our feet.

We trust, we betray, we rise, we fall—
and in the end, we are only shadows on the wall.
The towers crumble, the faces fade,
and history becomes a circle unmade.
To create is to destroy, to build is to break,
and all that we are is a cycle we cannot forsake.

So tell me, do we have faith in our fellow man?
Or are we merely creators of dust,
doomed to build, betray, and trust
until we collapse into the ruins we leave behind?