flights 49

is this it
the end
in a dark tunnel
walking towards a blinding light
know not how i got here
care not why i bleed
dont think i'm walking
feels more like floating
the words of cassius ali
gonna come and sting like a bee
poor poor worker bees
shelter from storm i give to thee
or a grave if the shelter proves weak
clothe thyselves in prada so chic
or send a cheque to slaves in malay