Sitting with a cup of tea a cigarette and the morning paper

Reading the personal stories of survivors of the bombings

As I read I find the newsprint has blurred

I remove my glasses to see if they need cleaning

They do not! I wipe the tears from my eyes and continue

I’m sure I am not the only one that shed a tear for the innocent today

For the world our daily survival is being controlled by a vicious mob

Trying to enslave use with the chains of fear