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Dying for Flying
For many years, I always loved to fly,
And now I see it, as a nice way to die,
Dying slowing and lonely, on some death bed,
Is really something, I truly do dread,
Statistics aside, we all have a choice,
To style an end, according to our voice,
This isn’t about your hand, which has its own place,
But we can tempt the Sickle, at an accelerated pace,
Airplanes are real good, at flying around,
They need something unusual, to fly into the ground,
If you’re careless or stupid, this you can trick,
Otherwise you’re dependent, on something catastrophic,
A spectacular mid-air collision, would be not a drill,
Almost had me one, but just got a thrill,
If this sorta thing, fires a spark for you,
You can love your last seconds, with a spectacular view,
If the dice are to roll, in your final favor,
Glaring at the edge, is something you need savor,
There are other ways, you might like:
Fighting to your death, or creatively smashing your bike,
A really good bike show, may make the responders a bit queasy,
When they come and collect you, using a squeegee,
Alright, alright, enough of this crap,
But think of your exit, would it make a nice rap?
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