The air is thick with whispers of betrayal, an unholy pact formed in the depths of time. The older generations, draped in the tattered robes of comfort, sit upon their gilded thrones, clutching their pensions with skeletal fingers. They feast upon the fruits of a system built on promises and indulgence, their bellies full from a lifetime of government handouts.
But beneath them, a different story unfolds. The young, stripped of hope, their backs bent under the crushing weight of debts they never incurred, are forced to watch as their futures are siphoned away, drop by agonizing drop. Their hands, calloused from endless labor, struggle to grasp even a fraction of the security their elders were handed without question.
The allegiance of the old to the Liberal establishment is no mystery. It is not ideology that binds them—it is survival. They do not cry out against the machine because they are the machine. Decades of easy government jobs, cushy pensions, and unchecked benefits have allowed them to rest while the young march toward an uncertain abyss.
A silent transaction has taken place in the darkness: the prosperity of the past traded for the suffering of the future. The system, a twisted relic of bygone days, thrives on the sweat and sacrifice of the new blood, while the elders whisper lullabies of entitlement and fairness. But fairness is an illusion, a rotting mirage in a wasteland of debt.
The young toil, their futures mortgaged to sustain an empire that does not serve them. They do not rebel, for the chains are invisible—woven not of iron, but of duty, expectation, and deception. They are told to be patient, to work hard, to trust that one day, they too will taste the rewards. But the feast is long over, the table cleared, the plates shattered. All that remains are crumbs scattered beneath the boots of those who came before.
The shadows grow long, and the young watch as their elders smile, content in their fortresses built upon borrowed time. The cycle will not end until the young awaken, until they see the rot behind the mask of prosperity. Until then, they will continue to pay the price of a debt they never agreed to—a silent horror creeping ever closer, devouring their tomorrows.
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