the thing i fear cannot be touched or held. it cannot be tasted, it cannot be heard. my fear is not a person, nor a place, not even an object. it can, however, steal families, lovers, friends. my fear is death, and it haunts me like the plague.
i know everyone dies, but mine will be the death of a soldier at the hands of some one who does not respect the fact that we fight for the good in the world, we fight to bring prosperity to all. yes i might get medals, i might get respect, my name on a memorial. but i will not be home. it will be foreign lands, away from the very thing every one desires, everyone holds dear:some to hold at night, to wake with in the morning, some one to love.
