I was born in 1956
and I couldn't talk or think ,
But found my feet on a Belfast street,\ skidding on a icy rink .
Suddenly early one morning the troubles came without warning and so I
left Belfast and became part of an emigrant link .
Hi-jacked by hard narcotics
way back in 1972,
My mind was warped and twisted
and I didn't know what I could do .
So I returned to Belfast town ,
where they took me in,
tied me down and zapped my brains until I was a person that nobody knew
.
Re-invented not demented ,
I went back to my Mum and Dad ,
Got a job and worked real hard
to regain the respect I once had .
Then just when I was on my feet ,
They threw me on the scrap yard heap,
Too old to work at 25 ,
I had to survive,
not get mad Admitted into Chelmsford in the late nineteen
seventies,
Where deep sleep therapy put people like me down upon our knees ,
Patients rights where forgot about.
Oh God I cried
please help me out ,
Then at Chelmsford a royal commission was ordered to seize .
My little sister was killed in a car crash back In 86 ,
I became homeless with a hurt nobody and nothing could fix .
Then in October 89 I returned back home for some time .
But after I was robbed In London with the homeless I was mixed .
In 1990 I made it to Ireland half dead on my feet,
Where I was attacked by a small group and beaten up on the
street.
Taken unconscious to a bed ,
Some people thought I was dead ,
But no,
again I talked and I walked
and forgave the wrongs instead .
At 47 I'm longing for heaven
and living in hell .
A tortured life is what I'm living .
God knows its the truth I tell .
By Paul McCann