The tethered broken

Winged Hawk

Perched in my ashen


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.