A plane,
Soaring through and above the
Open space;
Hearing the grunt and the
Groan of its flight
As I sit in my room with blinds closed tight.

Closing my eyes, touching the
Faint trails of its last whine
Before it fades into painful silence
Like the end days of
A broken heart.

Its metallic wings,
Groaning with the essence of mankind:

How should I put it?
The plane,
Like a free bird
But not quite.