The Moor
They say you see white,
A placid sea,
But where is the light
That was promised to me?
I am taunted with its coming,
Because he always retreats,
Forever in this penumbra that should not be.
He put me here
After he saw me shake,
After he saw me quiver,
After he saw the blood,
Stream down my face.
Why did they take me?
Will I ever know?
What about the others?
Where did they go?
Tell them I'm here,
Just under ground.
I want to speak.
I want to cry.
I want to yell.
But how can I?
This Manchester soil fills my veins.
Please help us.
Do not let our mothers die in pain.
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