What future awaits
to this verdant boy,
a son of war?
Who will serve
as his strength
if at this moment
his father shed blood?
Who will light
his stoney path
if his mother catches
fireflies at noon,
spitting saliva
at the passers by
on the sidewalk?
If tomorrow comes
and you'll see him
marching with rifles
as if an expert
of killings and war
but never did once
pull the trigger,
don't be shock bro.
It was his fate
to make you feel
how tiresome it is
to gamble and fall
until the dawn breaks
on a bestfriend's wake
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