I walked the scarred streets today.

Walked down the middle along the white broken spine line.

Did you see it?

Did you see the spider-web glass where the blow was caught?

Did you hear the PM use his windpipe to beat the streets?

Did you see the watchers faces, tight skin stretched like drums?

Did you see it?

Everyone speaks when no-one knows it seems,

For this madness came upon us silent like blood.

Suddenly it was just there sparking the streets.

Smoke signalling, remember me, remember me.

Scribbling on the sky, we are not dead.

But then the rains came, and the madness bled out

Stopped kicking and went still.

And from behind our stereotype shields we all offered our thoughts.

Yet, still I wonder about those who went to war

I wonder if they’ll say, I was one of those who fought on Crispin’s Day.