Orbs

The crow man sits on his haunches,
reminiscing of the days when he was visible.
now only a chassis in the human form.
aeons float by in his continence,
while seconds pass on the outside of his orb
he exists solely because of his refusal to relinquish life.
if it can be called that.
he sits in his sphere,
stubbornly ostracizing any valiant hero coming to assist.
he does not want help.
his mind twisted by his vision through the orb of glass
Warping the sight of any allies to miscreant monsters.
what caused him so much hate?
Mankind.
Burn until there's nothing left.