Flying bird..

The bird flew soon,
Devoid of any boon.
Over the hills high,
The bird did fly.
It never took a break,
Into freedom,it escaped.
The pelted stones galore,
She flew despite body sore.
Her strength appeased her,
For others,she didn't bother.
In her beak was a spring,
Of spirited will to leave.
It never came back,
For her own had betrayed her.
She went into emptiness,
For there,bliss awaited her.