This is the year we did unravel,
The moment when the joys of travel
Were undone; We lost the trust
Of those who quacked, scolded, fussed
Over our lives, and sought our love
But abandoned us when push met shove.
This the year when we all learned
That skin is rent and flesh is burned
By any common garden device
Wielded by those who sacrifice,
The year in which we fully saw
Common bonds do tie no more.
Bullets at the temples flew,
Boats sank in the water blue,
Bombs and bluffs we never knew
Were true; and cancer grew.
Weather, sullen, misbehaved
Left several gifts so deep engraved
That served the glory boxes of
The barren folks who’d stolen love.
History weaponised itself
And hate spilled from the upper shelf,
To memorialise the year
When we unravelled, slip to tear.