He rises up from a shroud of ashes, grey and hard, almost a stone,
the dust, purple gray and hazy, as it slakes off him in a halo-like cloud,
it reminds him of his death, bleeding and rent open, under the sky alone,
and broken where his heart used to once stand, beating strong and proud.
Till it shattered into infinite pieces in the gruesome battle of emotions,
scattering like the ashes from which returns, blown away in the wind,
now all that is left is a mausoleum, cloaked in stony walls of pretentions,
with a coldness that is all pervasive and metal in his laugh, hollow and tinned.
His carapace rock like, a force-field that surrounds him to shield and protect,
from all the barbs and putdowns, that came his way, generously abundant,
what once used to tear and rip, scrape and peel, rake and rive, cut and dissect,
now bounces off oblivious, raindrops off a duck’s back, unaffecting and irrelevant.
His tongue a weapon, a chain whip of raw hide and coated with metal burrs,
laced with the ice that flowed through his veins, devoid of feeling, frigid and cold,
lashing out at will, reducing to pools of blood and quivering flesh, digital and terse,
with no hesitation or remorse, a complete lack of conscience, unyielding and bold.
His eyes, obsidian and remote, beacons that searched for any usable weakness,
lighting up at the sight of a chink in the armor, something he could use and exploit,
his stare a veritable force, piercing and weakening, penetrating in its brashness,
he saw through the most complicated of defenses, quick to resolve, nimble and adroit.
His hands, which had once been soft, soothing and loving, caressing and comforting,
hang by his sides, never to succor or support, even at the sight of pain or misery,
now hardened with the depth of his hatred, and made sterile by his lack of feeling,
their only purpose to extinguish the last living light of hope in the eyes of his enemy.
Thus rises the Phoenix, reborn of fire and hatred, all consuming in it’s eternal flame,
this is a new improved version, not weak or susceptible as the his past births were,
a cold calculating ticker in place of warmth and emotion, a distinct edge in the game,
his mission, a vengeance on all those who broke him, destroyed him and laid him bare.
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