Fire rages, winds howl, homes turn to ash in minutes.
Who do we call in these moments, when hope feels like fiction?
Thoughts and prayers? They crumble like dry leaves,
While houseless numbers triple under the Winter Sun’s freeze.

The fighters are few, their strength stretched thin,
Jailhouse volunteers can’t rival the flames’ ruthless spin.
Insurance retreats—policies denied, claims unspoken—
And the ones who survive are left shattered, broken.

Floods rise, hurricanes roar, tornadoes strip the land bare.
How much destruction before climate change gets its share?
When do we face the truth staring us down:
The earth is on fire, and our leaders let it drown?

Shelter is a myth for the ones disabled,
No ramps, no access—their survival disabled.
Fire, Earth, Air, Water—we’re crumbling, unbound,
Where is our Avatar to bring balance around?

But heroes don’t come; we’re left to our fight.
Preparedness isn’t a dream—it’s a right.
Billionaires feast while the people burn,
The rubble rises, yet they never learn.

Not Katniss to spark the flames of rebellion,
Not a Mockingjay’s cry, but the voice of a million.
We live in a nation conquered by greed,
An empire of Siths who plant poisoned seeds.

Taxes drain us, sweat and blood flow,
And all we’re handed is a “thoughts and prayers” show.
But this is no act; this is our soil.
A history of neglect, injustice, and toil.

Help us, America, stand with resolve.
This is not disaster; this is a wound long evolved.
Let us rise for the innovators and minds unborn,
To build a world where futures aren’t scorned.

For if we wait, the fire will consume,
Leaving nothing but ash to scatter our bloom.