The Last Letter.

I see soil changing its color,

Calling me to lay,

So that it can cover,

It got me thinking,

What a man I’ve been,

And all the wars I've seen,

And that now I sound so feeble,

“You, a connoisseur of people.”

Ask not what you can do for your country,

Ask what you can do for it,

Said once by the youngest demagogue,

Here I ask myself was I a misfit in this vogue?

And as I sink low,

I begin thinking what I could've done during this lifetime,

Could've put on a show,

That people can watch time to time.

“But I picked war!”

Let me be a soldier,

Let me be a soldier,

With pride forever,

Till my last breath, I thrive,

Although with this I've been deprived,

Of all the things I loved.

A broken native, I've left it all.

All these feelings I had made them fall,

Call it a life, my watch has ended,

See where I lie, smiling among these dead,

And now that I'm gone cold,

There are no regrets that I hold,

Now some will cry, and some will cheer,

And some will say something that I don't want to hear,

But still I move on to my journey,

I've crossed many oceans,

Still I can hear them telling me,

A prodigy in plebians.