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by MrL Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #2313664
A young boy with hopes and dreams grows up. Then he dies. That's probably a spoiler
Gather 'round kids
For my new puppet show.
The tale that I tell
Is quite well known.

Our story begins.
With a boy in the streets,
Playing at war
Shooting people he meets.

Our boy, he goes home
At the end of the day.
His family's not rich,
But they pay their way.

The house is but small,
Of wood and brick.
And the family car
Sometimes needs a kick.

The boy, he grows up
As his parents grow old,
And soon they're the ones
For whom the bell tolls.

And now our boy
Has become a man.
But he's on his own
And he needs a plan.

The army pays,
It seems, quite well.
Three good square meals
And a trip straight to Hell.

In a far off land
A shot in the head
Lays our boy low
And now he is dead.

So gather 'round kids,
Hear the tale that I tell.
From lead in the head
You cannot get well.

Our hero has passed,
The story's now told.
Go live in peace
And you might just grow old.
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