Makeshift

A flick of fire in the eyes
Of a figure broken in to two sides.
 
Pieces scattered all around,
From when he shattered on the ground.
 
Punctured by shards of his own,
The wicked side stabs the 'lone.
 
From these pieces I shall make
A man greater than his fate.
Forge them in his own fire,
Breathes of the dragon's tongue,
Burning the soul of which, he is from.
 
Once divided, before then whole,
This makeshift man shall walk again.

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This is a old poem of mine, early college years if I had to guess.