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  1. Posted March 19, 2024 at 8:47 pm | Permalink

    It was frequent, night and day, born poor you have to pay,
    The price was untold lasting damage to your mentality, such was the brutality,
    Guilty your honor was always the answer when the statement was read,
    It was the one thing that was drummed into your head,
    In the class your guilty of sin, the leather strap being the weapon of choice and by now you knew you just couldn’t win,
    in the yard you were guilty of being the sensitive type, so got punched around by bullies with a gripe,
    On the street it was worse, you had to take on all comers being soft was a curse,
    At home you where the whipping boy to a Dad who had a problem with drink,
    After each beating your spirit would just shrink and shrink,
    Insides twisted and burning in pain,
    Cries of help all in vain,
    Off to see another quack they sent me into a ward,
    Where they opened up my belly to see what they could find, closed me up with twelve stitches and left something behind, six months later I was climbing the walls with pain, ambulance took me back to get opened up again,
    On and on it goes, where it will end nobody knows,
    Maybe it’s true that the end is your only friend.

    Anthony Mc Gann.
    11/3/24. 6am.

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