He played Army with all the other 8-year-olds
He climbed trees to conceal himself
with branches,
He made pop noises when he pointed his little fingers in the shape of a gun,
He wore war paint to hide his face.

He grew up a little.

He became a young man,
who sagged his pants and looked cool
in stunna-shades.
He started worrying about girls,
and forgot all about his play Army days.

He grew up a little more,
and people gazed upon his face

His eyes were determined and tough,
but the viewers could not guess,
what he would do,
who he would become.
His words grew hushed as actions increased.
No one did guess this particular young man,
by the way he dressed,
the grease in his hair,
But it was all in the eyes.

Soon the time came,
and he knew whatto do.
With even steps, he marched into a new life.
It was not believed he would do well,
in the service,
but his eyes held the truth.

He was shipped off to war
He was put into battle
And as a bullet flew towards him,
His eyes were still determined and tough,
and now,
they were hardened with pride.
He died.

He was born a fighter,
though no one could tell,
He sacraficed everything,
and a hero he fell.