I was sent to guard, not to grieve. But the battlefield doesn’t ask what I was built for it simply bleeds. My wings, once light, now heavy with ash, each feather singed by names I can’t forget. I walk where prayers don’t reach anymore, where heaven’s silence echoes louder than screams. The sword was never mine to hold. But when the sky closed, I held it. When the light fled, I stayed. Don’t call me holy. Not here. Not while I stand ankle-deep in the end of things, dragging a halo like a broken promise through the dust of all I failed to save. ![[IMG_0586.jpeg]]