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Flying high,
Everything fine,
Roiling clouds below.

The thunder cracks,
Adjust your backs,
T’is unclear what’s below.

Begin the dive,
For earth to strive,
Below the clouds of grey.

To hit the strip,
And end the trip,
And fly another day.
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Author's Comments

I read a story about a plane crash, and wrote a poem about it for a school project. I'd like some critique on this, because there's something about it that bugs me a bit.

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:icondontpretendtoknow:
it might bug you because the second to last two lines are about an end... then the last line contradicts and goes to a beginning. but i like it... very simplistic. just how poetry should be.

--
At first I thought of myself as a black and white thinker. Then I said fuck the shades and tints, the world is boring without color and I introduced (myself to) the rainbow.

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November 9, 2007
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