I was the puppeteer.
I sat on my throne.
I watched through a window.
I watched my servant, my knight.
He walked with strings.
He killed dead things.
He was my puppet.
And I clipped his wings.
He saw a world divided and wrong.
He saw the weak and chose to be strong.
He saw a way out and the journey was long.
His feathers regrew in a terrible way.
His choice was doom and his path didn't sway.
His life ended and his soul didn't stay.
His strength was a gift…
He left behind things.
He gave it all light, feathers and wings.
He made a choice, without strings…
So I gave him a chance.
To start over again.
(The switch is now OFF)