A poem about modren day irish culture
The Willow weeps.
A silent tear for those in fear.
Outcasts and the abused shunned before they are used.
The tiger dies to enjoy a restless painful lie.
Families forced to leave before the storm.
An endless peace as the banker fleeces the honest working man.
Corruption sweeps as the politician flees.
An undyng demon fought by those who brought it.
And yet we are still here trembling in fear.
The four horse men ride a mile high.
As disease and poverty spread wide.
A tsunami for some a debt for more.
But yet we are here forever in war