Epistolary Poem

12.05.06

To whom it may concern,

As I lay here on the brink of death and look into one of these hollowed out shells I am reminded of the one thing I most try to forget. 

That I am not a  man, a toy soldier at best, a puppet of death, sent by Hitler, but mostly my cowardly ways.

I chose to wear the swastika instead of the star,
I chose life over death; which I regret by far. 

Each time a door busted down and I heard the screams and cries.
Each time I came face to face with on who held pride. 
I was reminded of the gutless coward inside.

Remember, remember their screams and cries when the toy soldiers busted our door down and my son held pride. 

All I could do was run....

This is not something I'm proud of 
or that I would like you to know.
My main purpose to tell you this is that you know there was at least one regrettable soldier out there... 

Yours truly,
A coward at best.