(ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF LOSING SIXTEEN ANGELS AND THEIR GUIDING LIGHT)
Now the silence of a year breaks open the scars,
Still weighted by their weeping sorrow; all that
Not done; Corridors of power should now have burning ears of guilt.
But it is too late for rice paper sorrows
as he has followed them,
Because of empty talk.
Broken screeches will fly to their ears, and rape their souls.
But still his plan stopped them seeing how
Ended.........that is, what they all became.
He was nothing, and as such shall remain, for he was the baseness of evil
That can beleaguer an existence
that did not need it.
Their life is the death of those children.
Their broken living caked by a choking gargle of their young blood.
breath of Dunblane cries on,
Its lesson will still burn, long in.