You sold us dreams.
White-picket promises.
Loans dressed up as lifelines.
“You deserve this.”
“It’s yours.”
“Just sign here.”

And we did.
Because we believed.
Because we wanted something more than surviving.
Because you made it sound possible.

But the fine print bled.

Interest that swallowed us whole.
Clauses that shifted like sand.
And when it all collapsed—
when the numbers cracked
and the walls caved in—
you got bailed out.

We got evicted.

You kept your suits.
We packed our lives into boxes.
You kept your bonuses.
We buried our credit
under shame and silence.

You blamed the market.
The system.
The consumers who “should’ve known better.”

But you knew.
You knew what you were selling.
And you sold it anyway.
Because you’d never be the one locked out of your home
with your kid holding the teddy bear you promised would sleep on their new bed.

You crashed the plane
and walked away smiling.

We’re still in the wreckage
trying to rebuild
with no equity,
no cushion,
no apology.

You turned survival into strategy.
Human lives into debt portfolios.
And you called that growth.