Well wishing. Fingers crossed.
Body holds still as soul stumbles upon.
Creeping inside a hollow
and empty feeling of the restless one.
Deep and heavy steps,
as feet leaps to the ground.

Ironically free yet visually stuck.
Glaring at gripped wings,
which cannot flap to go above.
Soaring and circling is all one could think of.
Caught between the bound
of metal chains suspended on a rock.

Lips once parted, now tightly shut.
Bleak were the eyes
once gleaming in lunar light
Struck by every stroke and blows of the trusted ork,
Gone were the hopes and dreams
of the misfortunate folk.