Failed Missions- Kamakazzi With Regret
I sit near the cockpit,
I am on a mission.
I believe that I am bait,
But at least I got to go somewhere.
Maybe if they kill me,
I will get a funeral,
And people will cry.
Just for me.
Maybe I will be honored.
Maybe my ashes will be strewn over some fancy place.
Maybe I will just die alone and no one will miss me.
That seems most likely.
I believe I am here to be sensuous and tempting.
I do not think I fit that description.
And that is why I think I will die.
I do not have a soldiers honor,
And I do not have a poet's finesse.
I will just talk,
And hope that you are listening.
Dreams are crushed,
And lives are wasted-like mine.
Never lose the value of a life-
Because then it will be yours that is useless,
Instead mourn for those you kill, silently, every hour,
And maybe you won't end up like me.
Cold and alone,
And ready to die.

Authors note: I had written this, and deemed it failed. Upon reflection, I think perchance it may be the lack of poet's finesse that makes the point more clearly. Please R&R- if ya have CC, please go ahead, but don't randomly bash me.