Autonomous Death Poem by Jake Andrews

Far away into cold eyes blue
Of wicked deeds a man would never do
High above the still night air
Master of the heavens, does not care
On the ground below life stands still
As corn is ground with mule and mill
Fire and blaze throughout the night
A Life is dead, yet without a fight
His fountain of youth, now turned dry
A man now is, warriors cry
Poisoned soul with vengeances tear
Up above, a pilots bombs do not care
Autonomous death, and the reapers silent stare