Counting down the days of the year. Cold and dirty everywhere. I don't even remember the smell of soap. How do you wash skin?
Today is February 1st, my sister's birthday.
Oh, how I wish I was at home. These wars have been destruction to mankind.
Why is it called men kind, anyways?
A year ago on this day, they forced me out of my house and into the wild to fight.
England needed recruits, and even if I was 16, I had to go.
My sister cried so much, my mother screamed.
This happened to my father when my sister turned 1.
Why does it always happen on the first day of February?
I'm in Peru now. I never thought that the way I would travel was through wars.
I don't like sneaking up on people, to kill them.
I don't enjoy the feeling of a gun.
Why, oh, why? Why can't I be home?