Paul F. McCann
BELFAST AND BROKEN GLASS
Like a shattered dream Belfast and its broken glass
lay on the people’s cold faces that couldn’t wake up from their sleep it seems.
Life had become a bloodbath for the people of the city,
who blocked out the echoes of the explosions and all their screams.
Some cars were packed with TNT and their drivers needed some TLC
while their families where lying back home in bed.
I found a quiet hell to hide away as the bullets flew past my ears
and the riots broke out as they counted their dead.
©Copyright 1989 by Paul F. McCann