270 – Heylel

Smells of
Hot metal,
Burnt feathers,
Charred earth.

But he was still standing.

No more wings on his back.

No more glow in his eyes.

But still on his feet
And defiant.

His body felt heavy.

Would fail for him
No more.

And all for a bunch
Of –now– self-aware

It had been a spectacular fall…

It was worth it.

The old fool
Thought this was punishment.

Fuck him!

This was now his world,
He was free.

He’d just
Have to learn to walk.

He smiled.

• • •

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