This Plane’s Going Down…

Little bird let fly

Don’t you dare lie

Beside me in the grave,

I dug this cave

For me and not no other,

Smothered myself and fled my brothers;

Enslaved, if you will,

I know it’s no Seville,

But it’s my soul at the reckon,

And that wreckin’s beckoned,

And try as I might,

I’m dying of fright

Of life and of you,

Engrained on me as a stinging tattoo.

Won’t do us no good to wonder,

Tip our heads to call the thunder;

I’m already killin’ myself slowly,

Me, wholly unholy

And I’ll not see you follow me whereby

Your own bitter end supply.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community.  Enjoy!