Our Golden Apple Land

I weep for our next nation
A nation without mothers, only daughters
A nation without fathers, only sons
A nation of children and infants
A nation untouched by sense and maturity
Where declarations of love fall from the sky
Prolific as raindrops and teardrops, quenching as saltwater
And everywhere the apples grow
Hollow to the very core
No flesh to be had, full only of hard black seeds
But with the most beautiful shiny skin you ever could see