Out of the Past
All I know is the difference between right and wrong
When I was fourteen they gave me a sharp stick, put me in line with a thousand strangers, and told me to march. By the end of the battle I hadn’t died. I picked up a sharper stick and a chain shirt and I kept marching. Over years and wars I saw thousands die, and due more to luck than skill I still didn’t die. Recently I’ve seen things in the world. Monsters not meant to live in godly times, and the men they served. They came for me with everything they had, and still I didn’t die. Now I think the time has come for me to start living.