Part Three:

It’s dawn and it is raining, it’s raining cats and dogs,

He’s quietly stepping, over slightly burnt logs.

He’s there for no reason, except to fight and die,

Never wondered what he’d kill, never wondered why.

For it didn’t matter to him then, not till the last night,

Till he conversed with his father, without a single fight.

It’s funny how things work some day, for better or for worse,

A shell just killed his best friend which just made him curse.

He shoots and kills the enemy, till a bullet hits his side,

He does not scream and let them no, the pain he can abide.

What he can’t stand is that he won’t reach home,

With his father he’ll never roam.

Today he might just die,

Today he might just die.

T.F.M