my story

The story from my dreams.


He always stood apart from the others.
Drawn to the back corenor of the rooms.
Rarely slept.
Yet always sleep curled in a ball.
He never said much, yet when he talked every one listened..
He would always go fro long walks outta boredom.
He was only entertained when there was bullets whizzing past his head.
H never asked for help.
He was always the first one into battle and the last one out.
He was always the last to eat.
He was always the one that did something dangerous just to save some one.
no one knew much about him. Just that he was the one person every one could count on.
The only person that gave everything and asked for nothing.

That day he died.
It was a dark day.
Every one had that fealing that sothing bad was going to happin.
Just no one knew what it was going to be.
He was shot saving his men.
The only thing he said he knew how to do right.

His last words were.
In my pocket you will find every thing you need to know.
Yet you will still know nothing.

In his pocket was 2 peaces of paper.
one was a letter addressed and ready to send.
It had a name on it.

The other peace of paper was folded not sealed like the letter.
It said.
Stamp the letter and send it do not open it.
Send my body home.
They will know what to do.
Only remember what I did not who I was.
"it is not the life that you live but what do do in life that matters."
The day will come when you know what I mean.
Also don't be sad at my death.
life goes on and so shall yours.
The end.
Or was it?