The People That Fly Poem by felix paintwhenpainted

Dead People. Dead People in the air
upwards. but not into Heaven. Just clouds
all their lives. beliefs. traumas. gone, is it fair
released. Don't feel ashamed, or proud

Fires burning, nobody has sinned, or wronged
smoking. not a barrel just a chimney. here flies your life
what you dreamed, or wished, can no longer be longed
nothing matters. car, lawn, trophy wife

metal doors slam shut but soon you will be free
its too late to remember all that you bared witness
the heat and flames incinerate you. into the air you flee
your pride and mind is forgotten in the depths of the furnace

no room here for the question of why
as you are released to join the people that fly