Cowardly Plight

Flying through your open eyes
My paper airplane entourage,
Making signs to passing souls
On clouds tangled
In your lustrous locks.
Mouthing tidings to pilots
Gliding on your heavy breath.
They wait for signals
From crackling radios
In their cockpit's frame.
Smoke and fire and rain
In tears, the melting waterfall.
The enemy, fiends, they care not
Of suspecting murders of life.
Thinking for themselves, only
A responsive cowardly plight.