MH-17

After the blast and the massive shock
Metal screaming as it's ripped and sheared
By the seething air, and the wind without
Oxygen mercifully blots-out what was feared
In the back of my mind every time I board
A jet, and unconscious, for a minute I fall,
Seat belt buckled, at great speed, toward
The ground, then I wake up and it all
Becomes terrifyingly painful and real,
Those last couple of minutes tumbling
Downward, and wondering how it will feel
When I slam into the dirt of the Ukraine,
And end this senseless unlucky ordeal.