Wings

You were no more than an empty husk of a person. Puppeteered since you were young, dragged from the marionette strings tied to your limbs to perform for a jeering crowd of all who'd ever wronged you. All who only saw worth in altering your weakened soul, that had still held onto the one, small chance of remaining life.

Time wears you thin. You begin to feel a new warmth encapsulate your soul. You grasp at these new forlorn feelings of warmth for a sense of what you had missed and lost and yearned for.

Amid the unfamiliar sensations was him.

Sero Hanta.

Yet, no matter how much you yearn for something,

anything can become broken again. For better or for loss.