The old man

He was not that old, this man who sat under a tree, the true age was in his heart, the pain of his
life had aged him way beond his years. Who was this old man who many said hello to but noone knew.
His goverment had use him then dumped him, but that was ok, he knew the rules before he started.
Who was this old man that often helped young girls who were selling themselfs to get money to make
ends meet, he would give them money, sometimes take them to his home to feed tham and let them be safe
for the night, he never used them but sometimes held them safe for a night.Even when they offered sex
he would say no. Strange that other people called him a dirty old man, the same people who called the young
girls whores. It these girls are whores then what should we call the men who use them, he would smile
at this
In his life he understood many things, the most important never trust anyone, and never never trust
friends. Friends will always betray you if the gain for them is enough, trust only your self. The old
man had lived by this moto most of his life, but now his body was failing the cancer had seen to that
He moved his body a little to ease pain, and yet the pain reminded him he was still alive.
He had seen many horrors in war, but the greatest horrors he had seen were happing in the clean streets
and the tidy houses behind closed doors, incest, rape beatings, he had seen it all himself so showed no
shock when the girls told him of such things, but belived them.
The old man had known love, his first and only wife of 20 years knew he was a good man, but she never
knew him, when that time was over, they went there way,she was angry at him becouse even after all
the years she only knew he was a good man but not who he is.
He had made many mistakes in his life but had few regrets, what is done is done and can never be changed
he use to say.Perhaps his one great pain was that the only person who did know him had been murdered, the
bastard who killed her also killed himself so he could not kill them, the rage and anger was still burning
bright in him even after so many years, the only person he could release the fury on was dead, so he just
carried it deep inside.
People do not understand the power of words, they do not understand once they are said they can never be taken
back, and yet the word most used the word "sorry" has no power or meaning, the old man understood this.
The old man spent a lot of time in nature, going to places not many people would go.He would sit often not becouse
he wanted to but becouse he had to, cancer does not care who you are it just takes and takes.
Its strange this old man who sits under a tree alone is the good man the hero who so many of us want to be, and
yet as we look at this old man who people call strange, call him a dirty old man, this old man who seldom speaks
Is this old loney man who noone knows realy the hero we all want to be, no he cant be.
So the old man sits alone knowing he will die alone with nnone left who know who he is, many know what to call him
but noone knows his name

a reply to: imod02

Deep writing. Now he will die alone. Great writing!

a reply to: imod02
Reads like a true story. It held me in suspense.

Star and flag...