On the eleventh of November I always think about my great granddad. He was one of the poor soldiers to die. I always feel sad about him. He was a good man, very caring and nice, but when world war two struck, everything went wrong. I remember his cunning eyes and his smiley face. I wasn't around at world war two so all I got was tales about him from my mum. I sometimes think about, what if my life ends in world war three? Will it be the last thing I ever do in the whole timeline of me?
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