Little satellite
trajectory true
but lying to yourself
this long elipse will slowly
drop you into the atmosphere
Burn you,
feel the heat
red nosed and runny
don't smile for your end
Like a little boy on a bicycle
running his handlebars
into the grass
while his savior runs a few feet behind
The excitement without training wheels
lead - very shortly - to complete loss of control
like the satellite
sucked by the molasses of gravity
the soup of shame
an angle of anguish
Little boy save yourself
every decision you make now
may only lead you
closer to
the dirt
and scraped knees
Raspberry joints
that sting for days
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