---Writing to the Boy Scouts in Africa
are they smart kids, better marksmanship,
mom-to-be, I'm stupid in your arms ,
I'm not a boy scout
, my pupils are not the holes of a gun,
my left eyeball is my father
who was on guard, he fell asleep on the battlefield
, mine The right eyeball is just a bright flashlight, it can't drive away the
night, and it can't light up my hometown . The
pistol lit a cigarette for the general. It's
not a cigarette. I don't understand why he can't
quit this addiction . The
white wedding dress is not a funeral . The red kiss mark is not
blood. I
'll bow my head
for a little flower I'm not a boy scout My hair is hardened and they'll fight Bullets of happiness Drill holes in my palm for fire I can die, but I must live forever The palace they took with their bayonets It's their own tombs before dawn they trod after dawn they'll rest at our feet
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