Toxins Waste You Their Crimes

The blessed boys of Ireland, proclaiming another Soulful note; their favourite topic
Love, and a child upon an April morn, where a shot rang out; twas time's curtain torn
Resurrecting dreams thought lost while babies bled; heart's repressed by chains they wore
Ancient doctrine, from his Potter's fields ?

                                                                         ...."In Progress." *
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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