[ WP ] Write a story of an inanimate object being destroyed from the objects POV .

This is my job, is n't it? 
 
 I do n't have long to think as I fly through the air. In these few moments I see more of the world then I have my entire life. Skies of blue rather than the dank dark of steel. Clouds instead of the sides of crates. I fly free of everything and serve a purpose. The people who brought me here must be really excited. They pointed the barrel and shouted, and I glanced everyone covering their ears as I flew from my prison. I do n't know where I'm going, but it seems that they do. 
 
 For the first time I look below me at a scene of chaos. Fire sweat and tears come from the guns and eyes of the people below. Why are they angry? I do n't know. And yet somehow I understand that I would n't have been made if they were happy. I glance to my side and see brothers flying through the air in gentle arks, some rushing to meet the skies and others the ground. I pause for a moment up high to breath in my last full breath before my descent. 
 
 Yes, this was what I was made for. 
 
 With renewed purpose I point my face towards the ground and begin my descent. Those humans lived their whole lives doubting what their purposes were. I at least understood mine for my brief moment of freedom. There is no other way. Gravity is a cruel mistress, and will not let me go unpunished for touching the skies. I catch a glimpse through the clouds at my target beneath me. A vehicle it seems. My friends barrel and compass did their jobs well. 
 
 I press forwards, faster and faster, knowing with a simplistic certainty my fate. Is it right, is it wrong? I am not plauged by these questions and will not have to live through their ramifications. I make a whistle on my approach, the only warning I can give, before we embrace eternally.
