He had a rugged face
that held forth
an insolent attitude.

He cursed under each breath,
and denied life its reverence,
on more than one occasion.

So, when he cried,
no body cared,
no body even looked enough.

For if they had,
they could see
his wounded heart

That was struck
by a bullet
and was bleeding him to death.

Because, he just had rescued
a young girl
from the local brothel.

Stains on his cloth,
were green and brown,
for he had helped her run
through the entire forest.

His name was unknown,
but even though
he was a stranger,
he resembled the brave,
represented the noblest,
the gone and the present,
who belonged to everyone.