Your eyelids flicker
Dreams chased away
By the persistent light.
Inhale. Open. Exhale.
White.
White is the first thing
You perceive.
But you don't
Understand.
White bed, white walls,
White ceiling.
How creatively monochromatic.

You want to close
Your eyes again,
But a Certain Missing-ness
Keeps them open.

Missing-ness.
The best word you can
Use to describe it.
The too-white bed squeaks
Your spine creaks
In protest as you sit up.
You blink.

You could have sworn you'd had legs.

Before the war, at least.
Oh.
The war.
The grenade.
The explosion.
The welcoming blackness.
The harsh whiteness.

Now bleakly staring at bandaged stumps.
The not-legs. The no-more-legs.
Cripple. Broken.
That is what you are.
No longer a soldier. No longer of use.

A gleam catches your eye.
You turn your head.
Shining metal.
New legs
Rest against the wall.
Defiantly black and dark
Against the bitter whiteness.
They are hopeful.
Not cripple, they say.

You smile.
Broken . . .
But still whole.

This is just a poem I wrote about a character from a story that has yet to make its way onto Wattpad. Her name is Sentry, and she's amazing, if I do say so myself. XD But yeah, my first venture into sci-fi, let's see how this goes.

-Avalon Lee