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This Time
March 28, 2016
My cold, metallic
Skin
Cuts through the wind.
I glide.
Below,
Milestones recite
To home
I go...
What now?
Evil has veered
Where goodness
Should steer.
Where has goodness gone?
I swell of
Sorrow,
Worry,
Tears.
My unfamiliar
Habitat asks
Of me
Why?
Directed by
Unknown
Chauffers.
I'm sorry,
I'm sorry,
I'm sorry...
Dust, dust,
Death.
Destruction wins
This time.
We
Fall
Down.
This time.
© Brooke S., Indianapolis, IN
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This is about the 9/11 attacks, from the plane's point of view.