The sting of steel and the hiss of the blade is my only home
I watch as my comrades are hacked to pieces and I laugh
I know I will never go down, then, the blade comes for me
And I listen as the blood leaves my body, someone is laughing

The heat of the jungle is the closest thing to a home I will have
I watch as the prey lives in its huts oblivious to my approach
I listen as they talk and know where they will be
And when I stalk up, they ambush me and I die an ignominious death

The sound of rifle fire and the buzz of the bullet are what I trust in
I listen as men and machines fight and die,
And im saddened by the extent of the madness
Then its my turn and I fight and die, just like all the other grunts

I listen as the enemy sneak around and there is nothing I can do
I watch as their men haul supplies and think
That every dead one of them is one less that could kill me
And as I pull a milkrun patrol, I step wrong and die yet again

Now I look back and see what happened
And I realize its in my blood to fight, to go to war
Then I look back again and see that it has killed me every time
And I decide this time I will not die like that and will do something

By brother in darkness

What do the stories I have to tell you matter. You might read them, but I doubt you will. Even if you do, I will tell them to teach a lesson other than the one you would get. So I'll make it short how I feel, almost all of the good in this world is dead, turned to ashes by people. The only things that have not died out yet are love and pain, live for these two things and your life will be filled with pleasure. Live for all of the things you could hope for in Utopia and everyone will laugh on your grave. Read my works or do not, it is none of my concern, I write these for me, and I post them in the hope that one more person will see daylight and regognize the futility of existence.