I look down to see,
The clouds and the grass.
Where am I?
In the air, it would seem.
I can fly!
But what am I?
With huge, white wings,
Am I a bird or a plane?
I fly over the trees,
Over the mountains,
Past all my problems.
BANG, A gun is fired,
BANG! BANG!
I have been shot,
I fall to the ground.
I realize that,
even when you go past ,
Past your problems.
Their is always someone,
Someone to shoot you down.
-Henry S Amoroso
