an old torn mat that he,
when darkness falls,
lies on folds,
into gaping shoes his feet a dive
take,
readiness to face the world all
over him written,
to him unwelcoming everything
has,
but that least a worry he be,
for a soldier he vowed to be,
in tears or pains of dripping
blood..,
he takes a step out those rust
leeched tins,
a home,fortress he forever has
known,
and out to walk,
among mortal men in deep
thoughts lost,
the sting of the morning air,
a many memories bring,
of friends he has lost,
in ways cruel to die,
not even his girlfriend mercy on
can have,
killed under a weeping moon,
claims of deals gone wrong,
no one the truth can tell,
and though vegeance of love,
many men to insanity can drive,
in composure and forgiving heart
he stands,
for the world lessons to him has
taught,
and he knows what a cold dish
revenge can be,
nothing to it warmth can give,
hail mary silently he prays,
that the day blessed may be,
and if to die he had to,
then it be a destiny script..
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