The tethered broken
Winged Hawk
Perched in my ashen
Soul,
Tired of being enslaved
In the heart of laden.
When the unicorn sings
the tune of peace,
the feathered friend pretends
To have the wings
of falcon’s.
Flying high with a loud shriek
pursing for the summer clouds.
When the golden orbs
With hopes
Opens on its own accord,
It had its own epiphany
to deal with : The guardians
of frozen land are the demons
from hell.
