It’s easy to spot the smoke,
Cruising at an altitude
Of thirty thousand feet.

Cabin fire, you thought
It was all contained.
You thought it safe.

You thought
You thought
You thought

Sometimes the things
That seem so secure
Your fortress of warmth–

A mirage, a delusion.
A prison of your
Own making.

Stack the bricks
All the way to
Starry skies.

Nose down
Through the clouds
Awaiting impact. -drearydaffodil

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