Third

The Third invasion:

The Second commander to be a success

It's not the First time he wondered why he's even here.

It's his Eleventh year of being alive

His Eleventh year of being so different

But only his Fifth of this hell.

I'm sure he could count, the smart little bastard

From the day he was born

(That's his Zeroth, he's their Third)

Some others might have taught themselves at One, By counting buggers

In their heads,

In the films,

In the sky,

Or behind their eyes in bed, like sheep.

One, two, three, four…

It's ending children; it's ending, world:

There's nothing left to count.

Ender, I'm so proud.

-Graff