Falling
That's what we are doing
Slowly spinning out of control
The masks drop
Like bodies hanging from a noose

The turbulence
Of a hundred lives
Coming to an end

Throwing our hearts astray
Along with the wreckage
Strewn across this valley of despair

Wings
Ripped from our backs
As we lose altitude
Along with feeling,
Numb to our loses

Ears popping
Like celebratory bottles of champagne
Commemorating our near future deaths

The fuselage
Comes in like a missile
Prepared for utter destruction

Touchdown
The landing gear didn't deploy
You were unprepared
As were those watching
In pure terror

At the scene of our death.