he tells me he’s a Phoenix but his left wing is

mangled and broken.

the bright red Glow now dark with dirt and ash.

he spreads it out to make it seem

Large and still Functional,

a scare tactic the Beast

he wishes he was would use.

the right one has been

torn off.

he tells me he’s a Wolf.

more like a sheep in Wolf’s clothing.

he wants to join a Pack and hunt his own kind

will he see he’s a sheep in time?

he is a doll made of porcelain—easy to

break.

his bright blue Eye is the only part of him that is

genuinely Beautiful.

it always seems to be creeping upward

staring at the nothing always hovering above him.

his other eye has been scooped out.

his lips are sewn shut

but that doesn’t keep him from talking—always

rambling about ramblings.

he tells me to give back the eye

that I stole,

to remove the threads from his lips

and use them to sew back the wing

I tore out.

I gawk at him—why doesn’t he remember

doing those things

to himself.