Caring I would watch my living son
from the coloured glass windowed heaven
steering him away from evils done
till all was lost when he was seven.

All windows shattered from screaming prayer
a thousand tears of glass let fly
exploding vision's angelic stare
fragments pierce the skin of my eye

All I see are distorted slices
images with a confusing art
a pictured gun with naked vices
a smashed face, and a speeding bleeding heart.