As his eyes gazed the sky,dark but clear.
As his hand hopefully reached for the stars.
As his memories told the story of a beloved husband,father,uncle,friend...
He was proud to serve them.To be a diffrence.
It's like they say that when a butterfly moves his wings in Belgium, he shall summon a whirlwind in America.
He hoped to be that small factor,factor of peace.
A lot of men died that way at the battlefield.
It's ironic,sad and stupid.
By every time you think about it,...it just makes you angry.
hopefully people will understand at the end ,that's not the milk who'm makes the cat drink it,but it's the cat's amount of lust who will.
So it isn't the weapon who'm makes people go and kill each other, but it's mankind's will to do so.