I'm trying to listen but the TV's screaming at me.
Am I hearing the truth or just a news reporter's fairy tale?
They're so rarely the same except
when it's my tragedy.
Flailing words fail to fill in the blanks
in the picture you are painting.
But at least that soldier's death
was brought to you in stunning
High Definition.

Put a name to a painted face.
You'll never see them again but
you'll care until you change the channel.
LCD-authored horror stories
only exist to fill the time it takes
for the kettle to come to a boil.

Middle-class mouths trace events as
a siren chases down the hooded ­youngster
who it absolutely must have been because
he stands on the corner with a few of his mates
looking awfully shifty despite
only wanting to get home on the next bus.

And I bet you'd make a stand, wouldn't you?