De Spéir

A sack is thrown over your head,
tied with a belt, restricting breath
blocking all light, sight, hope.
Pushed into a car,. speed off.
Don't know where you're going,
stumbling in darkness, strange noises.
But there's something so familiar,
about, the smell, the sounds, the darkness.
You've been kidnapped before, you know
how it goes, you expect the pain,
of the heavy boots and brassed fisys.
This group they call themseves Angels,
they believe they're from the sky.

(French 'from, Irish 'sky'.)

The End

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