You found the crack in the fuselage -
metal twisted under extreme pressure;
projectile spiraled, tail began to spin,
in a kamikaze flight path.
It was your choice to abort,
but you let me rage on.
Rudder failed to stabilize.
Now powder-skinned,
white-coated soldiers
conquer anarchy and chaos -
they have never absorbed the sun
as it touched their noses.
But I once saw it, burning crimson
just over the horizon
and rocketed into its dazzling core.
It consumed the metal armor,
rivets popping off like dandelions -
destroying existence as I knew it,
then spat me back out -
a flare bursting from its gut.
Meteoric, I burned
back through the atmosphere
and crashed into a crater
almost six feet deep in the earth.
Now that I've taken the trajectory path
of a solar projectile, blazing brighter than the stars,
how can I put two feet on the floor?
You should have grounded my flight
the instant you saw sparks ignite
the smoldering embers in my eyes.
Adding your comment:
If this is not the best one you have written indeed close, but you will never write a better one, if you don,t keep writing.
What a cool comment! You made my night!
)
