An eye from a eagle

If I were summoned,

to create a treasure,

I would take:


The eye of an eagle waiting for its friends to swing by,

the moon which makes stars shine in the evening light,

the hair of a lady as dark as the moon itself.


The room of darkness eating the dark,

the hair of Ethan like the pitch black sky,

the light of nothing which  makes you shiver.


A shell of a tortoise rotting away,

a pinch of an acorn,

the touch of hair flowing in the breeze,


A touch of being safe by a friend,

a shake of kindness for your friends,

a brain of responsibility  for being smart.


The book of science,

the experiments of labs,

a magic bottle flying to scientists.


 A bloodshot wolf ready to strike,

a  snail ready to race,

a hyena ready to eat you.


A bag ready to rip apart,

a friend ready to be a friend to somebody else,

a ex friend ready to confront the other friend

The last bit of a poem ready to end,

the end of earth as it gets sucked in a portal,

the  end of this poem as we say goodbye.


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