Port Arthur
such a beautiful day
sky so blue
when angels fell
and bullets flew
they say a retard
shot thirty doon
in less than a minute
in port arthur toon
as a boy
i walked these ruins
while the ghosts o' convicts
whispered murder brewing
haunting me
pain washed away
dead mens bones
tortured history
special forces
a psyops clue
when political assassins
come pay their due
nay justice here
there ne'er was
ne'er will be
memories fade memories lost
poem by John Mcleish
Added by Poetry Lover
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