"Give me your tired, your poor…
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Standing proud, proclaiming our commitment to freedom,
She took us, the fallen, and extended her helping hand.
Lady Liberty stands high for all to see,
She is our Colossus, our shining light.

All aspire to mirror her promise, the essence of our land,
Is it not the reason for our sustainability?
The ability to go from nothing to something,
The assurance of dignity and equality for all.

We were the castaways, those forsaken by our brothers;
The mere second sons, doomed to a life of minor service
They took us in, the fathers of our covenant.
Now we stand in their position.

We are the strong and the proud,
But we no longer take in the tired and the poor,
Instead concerned strictly with obtaining power and strength,
We shield ourselves in our giant fortress from those who need our protection,
Our covenant has been broken, our light burned out.

Then why must we still flaunt this relic of our time as if we are still the caretaker to the weak,
For who dare claim that we still hold true to our once proud declaration?
Such veneration, such deceit.
‘Tis but a shame, a sham of epic proportions.

She was our colossus, our source of pride,
But now she is only
Our Colossal Fallacy