The Plight of Flight

The clouds, they glisten in the light.
The engines roar, I listen, as they boast their might.
Voices, they whisper, echo through the chamber of fright.
While demons quiver and shiver in cold delight.

The air grows stale, chilled, by the frosty night.
Yet somehow I’m thrilled by this dreadful and eerie sight.
The faces of fear and panic, praying for a savior, a knight.
My spine a-tingling, ecstatic, filled with delight.

Their screams of anguish resonate as we descend in our plight.
They’re unable to fixate on the beauty of this night.
“Oh, glory! Oh, glory!”, my heart yearns, suffering blight.
My smile grows, my body churns, “Oh, such great delight!”.

Claims of innocence and regret, demanding for their lives outright.
Though innocence is a tale to offset one’s own spite.
Alarming bells ring, taunting me and my appetite,
“I can be the savior and give them peace,” such delight.

One by one the screams are silenced in this chamber of fright.
Only laughter and sirens left to echo in the night.
Stains they splatter, the work of a demonic sprite.
I bid you adieu as I lather in this delight.