Suspended in an altitude beyond comprehension
Space from four sides compresses to our heads
As if too lonesome miles above our homes
To survive without human contact.
Greedy intentions from a pitiful source,
It consumes the sound from our lips
But regurgitates the rumbles of the jet,
A justifiable reminder of the thousands of inches we pass per-second.
The neighborhoods filled with homes;
The playgrounds filled with children;
Piercing their territorial sky with nothing but a fleeting welcome
As the white metal inches
From the normalcy we’ll never counteract.