Dramira-Official

No one knew how to kill a conversation better than my grandfather He had been in the war, used to be a butcher Never would he talk of what he had seen or done But mid sentence sometimes he would just stop his drone He would get that glazed look on his face When he would grab at our arms and knead the flesh All while mumbling in his old man's voice About the greater good and that he had no choice My grandma would come over, soothe him gently Have him release his grip, bringing him back from obscurity He had been a great cook with a deft hand and knife But never she let him come near a blade again in this life He was said to be a hero, a sa