An Eagle’s Ire

My anger is broken
My love atrocious
an irony of nature
my beauty is distorted
I soar the skies in misery
Looking for an innocent prey 
until I see a lonely speck
nature has not made my day
They call me glorious
and worship my might
“The patron of Zeus
and Vishnu’s flight!”
I have flown across 
rivers of blood
scavanged for food
across the floods
I hunt for kings
wait for the baited
But die lonely
forever hated
When the skies come down
the earth comes near
the dust settles down
and the mist is clear
You feel the fear
of the deathly scars
for beauty is beautiful
only from far