Thirty years ago when you left, and people were able
Under their material and spiritual shackles
To breathe a little, and from this here I sit
In front of my computer, spouting nonsense. But those
Wronged ghosts born of your crimes are still
Buried deeply in the blood puddles of history,
Hovering in the hazy sky; our own sins too are stored
Beneath your embalmed corpse, unable
To see the light of day. Those maggots near your rotting corpse
Wishing they could live forever to this day still grab at the last
Of the poison and deceit. When will we be able to break free from
Your shadow and free from your curse on China’s fate?
Bless our children that they might have the freedom to breathe.
Haunted [Full Text]