Disappointment

Is it in you?

Or in me?

I guess in both of us. I thought you’d cross the line that would divide you from the rest.

I actually thought you did. But then again you didn’t have the will to stay.

What made me think to consider this? Probably desperation, maybe loneliness some might say.

Nothing has changed nonetheless. I need to stay off my throne for awhile just to get used to things.

It’s a tired game.

I’m tired of it.

But yet I can’t quit it yet. Addictive game that I’m not quite bored of yet.

I find the clarity in the calm of your inaction.

I find the disappointment in my misjudgement.

Why did I try to settle for less? Or why did I see you for more?

I’m not at a time and place where I need a partner yet anyway.

So I’ll hang in there and just relax.

Cause when it’s time to hire.

I know someone will be there with all the little itty bitty powers to spar with me one on one evenly.

But for now…I’m going to put on the shroud and move away for awhile.

I’m off to Tarbean.

Revisiting Death

Last time I saw this girl. I fell asleep behind the wheel. Nearly died that day.

That rainy day.

Oh geez. I’m worried now.

All aboard!

The old moral anchor!

Ah when I disappeared and put on the shroud. It was quiet enough that she didn’t notice.

Enough faith in her that she could smote a mountain.

Yet it feels so….How would you say touching that she didn’t judge when I told her of my journey past the shores of morality.

When the bell tolled today. Signalling our arrival. She was warm and friendly as usual.

The ever gracious princess.

And hearing her encourage me for war. Has suddenly put me at ease and confidence.

I’m gonna strap on the greaves and blades. And walk onto the shore.

Do you like snow?

The princess asked that question today.

Cheekily I replied.

“only when I’m walking in it with her.”

It was worth the “could you pleaseeeeeeee stop doing that” look.

Leviticus

You speak of an answer. But not the answer I want.

How do I proceed?

I’m sorry God. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

Iron Angels

Covered in rust. It’s hard to fly.

I remember when we were young. Still shiny and clear.

It was easy to fly and be pure.

Then the world’s tarnish came as we went out into it.

And it rained on us.

We are iron angels, black and red from the rust.

Coarse skinned from corrosion fuelled by our own blood, tears and the rain of the world.

We hit the ground. But we won’t break.

Rising again to wander the earth.

Because we are Iron Angels.

On second thought

Maybe it’s better if I bring the mask along.