Title: LOGAN
Author: endiahna
A/N: the first part is an excerpt from a poem that I feel suites Logan very well, it may have nothing to do with this drabblish piece but all in all it fits in my opinion.
I shall probably use it in the future again.
Also the spacing just never seems to stay right any more, ugh!
'Not-untwist-slack they maybe-these last strands of man in me'
(Carrion Comfort) Gerald Manley Hopkins
He felt hollow inside, he was broken, shattered. Yet he was alive.
He had no memories, at least none of which he could rely on.
Sure he had glimpses of a past so long ago it seems, but could he have had really been that man.
Could he have had loved and been loved? Could he have had a life, a real life?
He felt soulless now. When they stripped him of his memories of his sense of self, he lost his soul. Or perhaps he had always been that way. Always been a man without a soul.
He had been a killing machine at one time. He was great at that, killing. How he could live with himself was a wonder, hence feeling soulless.
He had no past, he has no future. All he can see now is pain. Pain and death.
Just more death to be caused by his very own hands. The hands that harbour very dangerous weapons.
The people surrounding him day by day were not as jaded as he. They could live with them selves. But they would be dead soon, just like every one else that had ever came in contact with him.