My friend the saint.

This about my friend, who I honestly believe may be one of the last true saints.

I'm not going to say his name, but he is a saint. Pure and simple. Though he may be too modest to admit it, he is. He may act like a rough and tough bad boy (and he can be), deep down, his good streak wins out. I've seen him jump to help people he doesn't even know, with no regard for consequences.

I've seen him give a homeless man his lunch, for almost a week straight.

I've seen him sleep on the doorstep of a dead friend's home for three days, to prevent people from stealing the families things.

I've seen him break through the bullet-proof door of a volunteer hospital, because his friend had been in a bike accident and was refused service.

I've watched him gather a sort of family around himself, of those who are different and picked on, making them feel welcome.

I've seen him defend countless friend from danger, when someone would hurt them.

I've visited him in the hospital more times than I could count, after he has done one of these things.

I've seen him hunt down and beat three men who robbed his friends house and hurt the homes owner.

I've seen him break the neck of a man who tried to rape his close friend.

I've even seen him take a bullet for a friend.

I've watched as he looks on in disgust at the way the world is becoming, as murderers get away and evil men go unpunished.

And I've watched, even after all this, that when he needs help, really needs help, few would lift a finger in return. But he bears this all in stride, knowing that what he does is right.

My Friend the Saint.