Plight on my wings.
I'm sinking into the ground.
The end of this dragon is a pitiful sound.

It was a sight for bored eyes to see me falling through the sky.

Heavy and clumsy with clubbed wings, mother sighed.

"His ambitions too high, to space and all else.
However, to do the endeavor he has to escape self."

Spurts of lame fire would pour from my mouth.
Even with gravity, they failed to fall south.

"Why are they better than me?" cried the last of my will.
I thought the fire inside had finally mastered the quill.
To own something as my own, to fly swiftest or straightest,
was always on my mind as I weaned and faded.

But still I flew proud, though slow, but strong.
Until she came and shot me down.