A/N: Recently I have been somewhat nostalgic for FFVIII. This poem is one of the results.
I don't own FFVIII. Of course, I don't reckon Square do either, but…
Song of the Sorceress
Because, you are…..a puppet.
~Sephiroth to Cloud, Final Fantasy VII
I am not a gun.
~The Iron Giant
I am not your doll.
~Rei Ayanami, Evangelion.
I was given my wings as a gift
A gift unasked for, unwillingly received;
had I the choice, I'd have refused.
For who would choose to be a slave?
And who would choose to suffer thus?
You saw me limp, a puppet girl-
inside I fought. I bled and screamed
As she forced poisoned apples down my throat,
held me still to graft her wings
to my shoulderblades; to recombine
The DNA of my mind and soul.
As my bones burned hollow from inside-out
I screamed and screamed, and I was dumb-
Remade, I stood. Her creature now.
A pathetic wretch. I wished to die
Or lose myself in sleep like death.
But you, you woke me. O my love
You loved me better than I loved myself
Refused to let me let her win;
you woke me up and bid me fight.
Wiser than you knew you were,
You loved me wisely, loved me well.
And I have fought. With you, my love
I walked the paths to End-of-Time
And met her there; my enemy.
Time's enemy. The death of worlds.
I met her eye. I told her, No.
She tried once more to capture me
To once again restrain her hound
But I had slipped my leash and collar.
I spread my wings. I am not yours
O death, grey Death, I am your death-
Burning, she fell. My enemy
My descendant; my nightmare self.
Before us, she fell. My mind was clear
As we walked homewards, hand in hand.
Now here I am, and here I stand
Tall and proud; I spread my wings
They are mine now. I make them mine
There is no stranger in my soul.
I claim the gift I did not want
With both my hands. With pain, with blood
With the coin of my suffering
I have bought it, paid in full.
I forge my weakness into strength.
I am not scared. I have no fear.
I am myself, my mother's daughter.
Each pinion wrought from shining light
Hyne's descendant, Angel Wing!