Under the Atomium (Heysel)
¶ 1
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The charging bull and the noble bird
Waving gently in the summer breeze
Atomium glistening, I proudly stood
Before football crashed to it’s knees
Posing, smiling, then a shutter clicked
Passers-by wear black & white or red
What did fate decide for the nameless,
Blood on their hands or Heysel dead?
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