This is a poem I wrote about Dublin and how history and violence have shaped her.
I have walked the streets
Where young men died in vain
I have climbed the great Dublin hills
And looked down on all of you
Seen a city still striving towards the light
And a people still dying to make ends meet
Where to this day your paper reads
A world of class division yet still
Between the smokestacks and hills
No Right Rose Tree ever
Bade her beauty bloom.
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