Life is flight.
When born your engine ignites, and you have take off.
Though the first of the flight was stable, the pilot is now steadily getting less sober.
Unable to manage my conductor, I play along thinking that it will all be okay soon.
Things get out of control.
There is a suicide sensation on this aircraft filled with different emotions.
Suicide first gets rid of happiness, then humor, leaving depression, sadness, and anger.
Sadness grows larger.
Depression neglects the place, cuts large and small, and numerous dents.
As suicide continues to murder every emotion, until most are gone.
The pilot is now returning from his planet filled with alcohol.
Dizzy, he isn't sure what's going on.
All emotions are gone, except for suicide.
The pilot can't control it.
The plane can't control it.
No more auto.
Suicide rules all.
Suicide kills all else in control.
The explosion was huge, into the Pacific.
There were no survivors.
No one had cared about the flight before, thinking it would make it all the way to its destination.
Now that it was gone, everyone gathered for the ceremony.
One of these people, just one, has the same emotion.
Life is flight...
