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He was born a warrior
with shrapnel freckles and poison green eyes
One of million, sent to fight an unbeatable behemoth
Every other soldier kept a picture- a pretty woman in pigtails, a house made of carved sycamore- but this one had only an amulet
He wears it over his chest like it'll stop a bullet
and keeps a knife under his pillow
He barely speaks, sleeps, eats,
and the only thing the others could get from him is that he's waiting for a brother to come home
In the meantime, he fights like his life has no worth
fights like there's someone out there who's does
There's salt in his pockets
and he runs through fire like it should fear him
There's no rain in the desert
but the soldier speaks of California storms
Rumors whisper heartbreak but the man's only ever spoken one word
Sam
That's not the one they carve on his gravestone