Photo by Ron Janoski
Massacre in Market Square
The rain has washed the blood away
That ran through Market Square
Yet never will it be the same
The stench still lingers there
The walks are empty — no one strolls
Or wanders without care
Bright light streaming from the poles
Masks the darkness and despair.
When walking past the brick facade
One senses haunted air
The Oyster House awaits your knock
All who’ve entered remaining there.