5 May 2012

This place is rust and ruin. Clutching at the bars, Dimly searching, Tranquil now, Hopeless , Sleep.

Governments can wash hands, Force majeure and walk on, While barefoot little kids, Don automatic rifles, Skip over bodies, Bloodied faces. Frozen.

Where once our prosperity blinded us, Now we can make out our chains, Finally we notice the old bars, Bow again for the captors, Sign away the last of, Old Irish rebellion, Crying out, "Saoirse"

paddydukeSaoirse • Opuss № I