A Still Day In The Skies

Only five hundred yards above the world,
Flies an iron eagle about to die.
Its eyes laced with panic at all sides,
Its wings shattered by machines.
Black smoke engulfs its gaping lungs,
Strangling those it once protected.
It slowly drifts down to the ground,
To shatter beneath the sun.
They all panic within its corpse,
Sobbing the tears of dread.
The loving hug eachother close,
The loveless smiling in seclusion.
Choirs of screams murder the silence,
Oncoming death within the forecast.
Every heart beats in time,
To the bleak and uncertain future,
And every mouth forms the words,
To bid the earth farewell.
The sirens of failed machinery,
Ring loud just like the bells,
That sound for life, sound for death,
And sound forever more.
And then...as if it was foretold,
The noise falls to a silence,
To a silence oh so deadly,
To the silence of the fear.