Where?

Summer springs across her rocky wet texture

Something is brewing with little pretexture

Save for the injustice upon her motherly skin

Plundering the Earth with incentivized lies

Such is the facade men veil over their eyes

A few years of cursed glory and mansions of size

All well and good, one day the soul will rise

The trumpet will blow

The last souls vacuumed from our temporary turf

The Lord will proclaim to none but himself

“I am the King of Kings

Now where are kings of the Earth?"

It’s from الله