In twenty-four, the streets aflame
a tempest brewed, a nation’s shame.
Southport’s wounds still fresh and raw,
three children lost their lives, a flaw.
False whispers spread through cyberspace,
the stabber’s name, a twisted chase.
Muslim, seeker, both or none
the spark ignited, chaos spun.
England, torn by fear and hate,
far-right voices, venom’s weight.
Riots surged from Southport’s core,
a wildfire leaping, burning more.
Arson’s dance, a crimson waltz,
shops looted, streets in tumult’s pulse.
Police van torched, officers besieged,
a fractured nation, wounds unseized.
Islamophobia’s venom seeped,
racist fervour, hatred steeped.
Disinformation’s murky tide,
Russia’s whispers amplified.
Yet amidst the flames, a counterforce—
Stand Up to Racism, voices hoarse.
Anti-fascists, Muslims, too,
clashed with rioters, hearts askew.
In this fractured hour, we seek the light,
to mend the rifts, reclaim the night.
For England’s soul, a plea resounds:
heal the wounds, find common grounds.
I stand against the darkness,
where prejudice and anger collide.
My words, a beacon of empathy,
a bridge across the chasm wide.
For love knows no division,
no borders drawn by fear.
In unity, we find strength,
and hate dissolves when love is near.
So let us rise above the chaos,
embrace compassion’s flame.
Together, we’ll extinguish hate
and heal the wounds that bear our name.