His dull green uniform was stitched into his skin.
When we we tried to remove it,
he screamed and bled-
for it was sewn to his soul.

His eyes were covered
with pages of stories
that we could never read-
for they were written in a language only he understood.

When she held out her hand
for him to grasp,
he jumped-
for her nimble fingers were laced in bullets and dusted in gunpowder.

The fire that once burned with in him
was put out by the tears
of those who were turned to dust
by the thunder that fell from the sky-
for their ashes stained his heart and clouded his lungs.