The Huntsman and His Peregrine
The huntsman and his peregrine
Woods was all his belongings
The huntsman's only pride and his holy livelihood
Flew an injured peregrine to his land one evening
Her quill feathers perfumed of mountains and coastal
She was somebody or someone of a kind like peregrine species of grass
He beholds an earnest affection for this creature
Full of dotes well up inside her injuries and wounds
One dawn when sun rises and it's scorching rays erased everything into ashes ...
'His love for her
Her faith on him'
And the woods inscribed-
Her blood of despair
Her thirst for life
Her soul sheds tears miserably
But the huntsman owes no mercy to his once beloved peregrine
Pain was all
Pain is all
Pain shall be
Isn't this Pain, how can be composed of such tinsy four letters word
Isn't this Pain, more hungry and greed for massive depth inside the broken soul
Isn't this Pain, stands injustice to the medicine called painkillers doses
Isn't this Pain, a tryst with life each breathe and those wounds just spiced up again!
The huntsman or my beloved man;
His peregrine or I was his beloved (once)!
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