*bang*
the gun shots still echo in his head
screams of days gone by return
"help me, please sarg help me" the voice still fresh in his mind
"damn this blasted holiday, it only stirs up old memories" he screams
the war my be over but it is still in his mind
the years may pass but the memories are there forever
all his men gone, the only surviver,
he wishes he'd have died like the rest of them
they werent his soldiers...they were his sons
"damn this blasted holiday, it only stirs up old memories" he screams
his grandchilderen always want to hear his stories but he never wants to tell
his time in that war was his living hell
slowly up to his room he treds
mumbling somthing about death
"damn this blasted holiday, it only stirs up old memories" he screams
a gun in his sock drawer,a single bullet in the chamber
a bottle of whiskey on the shelf
he lifts the gun out of the drawer, grabs the bottle
he presses the bottle to his lips, downs the whole bottle
the gun still rests in his other hand
"damn this blasted holiday, it only stirs up old memories" he screams
he smashes the bottle on the floor
slowly he raises the gun to his head
"here i come men" hes yells, with tears in his eyes
his finger slowly pulls the lever
*Bang*