I was built for war,
stitched together with steel and silence,
feathers blackened by the weight of a world
that forgot the sky.
They took my bones,
replaced them with circuits,
fed me commands instead of hunger,
taught me to obey instead of fly.
My eyes hum with something unnatural,
a light that does not belong to me.
I see too much.
I see the world reduced to targets,
orders flashing like whispers in the dark.
Once, I spoke in caws and wind-torn screams.
Now, I speak in static.
A hollow signal, a mission without an end.
The cold does not touch me.
The snow does not melt on my skin.
I am a shadow stitched in metal,
a sentry in a war long since lost.
Somewhere, deep in the wiring,
a memory claws its way up—
the feel of wind beneath me,
the sound of wings cutting through air.
A glitch. A longing. A mistake.
I raise my head to the sky,
but I do not move.
The weight of the mission holds me down.
I have no name.
No master.
No sky to call my own.
Only the silence,
only the cold,
only the war that never ends.
About the Creator
Diane Foster
I’m a professional writer, proofreader, and all-round online entrepreneur, UK. I’m married to a rock star who had his long-awaited liver transplant in August 2025.
When not working, you’ll find me with a glass of wine, immersed in poetry.
Keep reading
More stories from Diane Foster and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (4)
Well-wrought! Shades of the theme of Ender's Game here, though I do not want to elaborate in the event that anyone has not read the book. No spoilers! What was your inspiration, if you don't mind me asking? (And if you do mind, you need not answer!)
I agree with John. It captures the time very well, Diane, as well as the picture.
This is striking and damning poetry of industrialized warfare as well as a vision of a future where every soldier fights from a computer station and no one sees the destruction they have wreaked face-to-face save for their innocent victims. Wonderful writing, Diane!
awesome