Cultural Revolution

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The year was 1966,
And I was thirteen years old.
The schools closed down so
We would commit to the revolution.

No more common textbooks
To teach us of addition and past times,
But biased newspapers outlining
These sweeping changes.

From Baotou to Beijing,
I traveled by train.
Red men were lurking,
They boarded for no fee.

Tianamen square held him,
Sporadic flashes of red surrounded,
Mechanical chants of adoration
And praise and admiration.

I stared in awe,
At the leader I left home to see.
I was unknowledgeable but revered,
Young and thirteen.





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