The Helicopter

Jul 19

1 min read

Updated: Sep 18

A poem about why it’s so hard to land after you’ve already crashed.

They tell me I circle like a chopper

that I never fully land

they ask me if I know

how nice it would feel

to let my skids hit the ground.

I ask them

if they know what it’s like to fly?

Have they felt

the rushof going full speed?

Do they know what it’s like

trying not to hit the trees?

Have they actually hit one

I’d ask.

Have they felt the force

of crashing

looked up

at the ruins

inhaled so much smoke

they could barely breathe?

If they had, I doubt they’d ask me why

I keepcircling the skies.

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