VG (24/01/1979 / Epsom, East Surrey)


The world seems, quiet, as though pondering the destiny
Making sense of the upheaval, the carnage and impiety
A moan is heard and a child screams, for its dying mother
When the ground is red and the skin is burnt to black leather

I roll to my side, to, try and see the street that once thrived
Nothing is at all familiar, just faces of the dead and survived
Blood flows from every feature, every human eye is in tears
Partial remains, of someone I never knew, perception steers

Taking this in, I am just able to stand, as I lurch to my feet
The mist and the smoke, a child still screaming, in this street
A small fire remains, where a vehicle exploded, its lethality
Small steps that I’ve taken, I have taken in a lifetime of brutality

Sirens begin to emerge, though my ears are dimmed to them
A man grabs my shoulders, and I can see his blood, flowing hem
He shouts in my face, I barely hear him, confused and neutral
As I feel for nothing, I fear for nothing, I am lost to them all

Blood sticks myself to me, as I am caught in this horrification
Somewhere in the smoke, the street continues its condemnation
Sirens pass by, as I walk on, nowhere to call myself home again
Slowly senses, return in time, for me to feel my wounded pain

Can’t seem to acknowledge, what is happening, only what did
Shouts and the cries, as the dusts start, to rise, this is all so rancid
My torn clothes, testament to my now torn life, lost and obliterated
The dealers of death, ruthless, remorseless as they never hesitated

As I go, stumble closer to somewhere, I don’t know how or why
Approached by a man in uniform, comfort, bandage he does apply
My recognitions return, a sudden realisation, of my luck to be living
Turn back to look, at the street again, where a little girl is screaming

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