First Class Flyer

I’m up in the air and flying high, never touching down

Unless I am resting on a cloud, interestingly unwound

It’s interesting that I rest on clouds, I’m incredibly sound

Catching a glimpse of me from coach is an action unfound

All aboard the plane, but the first class flyer, I, am the first to fly

I am such a graceful type of sly as I grace the essence of the sky

With my presence on this aircraft, which is nestled in the high

Above ground, looking down upon all, looking back down the isle

I see nothing but a closed curtain, blocking my view of what I spy

As unpleasant peasants and the rest of them, their envy makes them shy

Of my prevalence, over their impotence, then look at them over a picket fence, why

Do they exist? All that is needed is me for this world to succeed, by any degree

I am a gift upon this planet for the onlookers to gawk at and wish to see,

What it is and what it’s like to be someone as inspirationally inspiring as me

But with this great gift comes a greater curse, the ability to see from my perch,

The ins and outs of everything that ever was and could ever be, wrong with this earth

So I recline and I design inside the eye of my mind a plan to rid man of it’s dirt

The underbelly of existence I call the poor, business class, economy, I ignore their worth,

Lest they should ever be upgraded, due to over crowdedness, I implore the captain to,

Abhor the rat’s den of those fat men that cashed in on tickets by luck, without couth

Shoot, me a look or glare, you shouldn’t dare, I was born of privilege, your clout’s new

About due, is me to be inducted into the hall of fame of the Ivy League, what about you?

How true, it is that you could never compare with the air of an heir, lost? How bout a clue

Arrogance? I beg to differ. Please let me differ, I beg to paint the bigger picture

Of the fissure between I and the rest of the plane on this fateful day of fresher,

Ideas than yours and better leisure, and a higher echelon, and better measure,

Of the quality of life, which I live and you don’t, and shall never experience the pleasure.

Engine failure?

However, annoyed I am by this slight hitch in the plans of flight

The rest of the classes are amassing a full scale panic, but not hindering my sight

I’ve got the magic eye as previously stated, this is not a day of training, for I just might,

Skip the whole exercise, and leave everyone else to scream, shout, retch, and die.

I am protected, why? Because I am the best of humanity, first class frequently fly,

And as the burning engine catches eye, I figure god will let the peasants fry,

Hitting the ground first in mangled pile of second best, breaking my fall, I try

To reassure myself of this, but keep feeling these cold fingers upon my neck

I hadn’t noticed yet, but in the seat next to me rested death…

So as this voyager flames and bursts across the sky…

Could I have reached the end game…

The boastful grandeur at death’s beck was good to try

But I’m sure I couldn’t be the first to die…

Could I?