On a hot summers day, There’s a palette of grey That determines the mood of the town. It was once a great port, had a bustling trade but prosperity’s starting to drown.
It’s markets drew crowds. Whether sunny, or clouds Threatened rain to discourage your shop. With its bountiful pubs that entice you to drink on a school day. You just couldn’t stop.
Then a trip down Main Street, On a bus or on feet, Used to repay adventure with shopping. But today as I wandered around this Ghost Town I had noticed that no cars were stopping.
So the ills of this town go unnoticed. It’s down to a lack of a motive for some. But as Blyth gasps it’s breath, It’s much closer to death. All it needs is a man with a gun.
Ex soldier, father, party girl and generally nice guy taking time out to do as he pleases! one day i will make it back to the UK, but i aint in a hurry!
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