Cost of Freedom

The plea was innocent!
to unshackle and let her
soar,high into
the unknown skies.
To let the chain
break  and free her,
to let her fly till her
wings hurt and heart is
content.
The king did so,
quite foolishly.
For him,
it was her heart that
mattered the most.
Quite foolishly,conscious to
the pain that’d be corporeal
that mark his death,or just an
existence with insanity,
the king gave in to
her  plea,thus unchaining her.
Spreading the bright silver wings,
with feathers of a divine flame,
she soared into the sun,
into her own sky of happiness
only leaving a trail of blood,
a satisfied face with a broken heart,
and,
a dead king.