I sit in this chair,

Watching you lie there.

Swathed in bandages,

Blood seeping through.

And I watch.

Lying here in this bed,

I watch you,

Watch you watching me.

Is there pain?

I don't feel it.

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

Do you feel pain?

Do you feel joy?

Do you ever feel a twinge in that heart of stone,

Ever let that mask slip,

Ever show a crack in the perfection?

I lie here, unable to lift a finger.

I seethe quietly,

This is stupid.

Why am I helpless?

Why do you suddenly stare at me contemplatively?

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

Those eyes are unreadable.

They are dead,

The only entrance to a world we cannot know.

Your world.

The world of death.

Yes.

I can see that expression in your eyes.

Many have shown me that,

When they heard of me.

Because I am the angel of death.

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

It is strange.

What made you so cold,

So uncaring,

As to throw your life away like that,

Toss it away as if it is no more valued then the dust beneath your feet?

I threw it away,

Because it was the mission.

The mission is all,

You should know that.

Or were your trainers more lenient?

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

Poor child who was never given the chance to be a child,

What do your eyes see?

Do they see Wing,

Do they see me,

Or do they see a past we can never reach?

My eyes see nothing.

I am nothing.

Was nothing.

Will be nothing.

So tell me, why should I see any different?

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

Why do you stare into the distance?

Why do your eyes glaze over,

Seeing a thousand miles away?

Why are you a child at heart,

Whose sanity and innocence were taken away by the death of a little girl and her dog?

That little girl was my anchor,

My rock in the storm,

My shelter in the tempest.

She was the first to treat me like a human being, and yet I still followed my training.

I have been lost since the day I was born.

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

Your head turns and your mouth opens.

Cracked words hiss out.

"Thank you."

I sit there and smile.

Your wings are opening.

I thanked you.

So why do you sit there as if it was the news the war was over?

Why does a smile spread over your face?

Or maybe,

Is the perfection shattering?

You are a strange one, you know?

You have wings.

Crumpled ones, broken ones, shredded ones,

But wings, nonetheless.

And they are unfurling.