Dedicated to those who lost their lives on 9-11. This was written on the 10th Anniversary of the attacks. We will never forget.
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People screaming,
there's smoke in the air.
The ceiling collapses
there's black dust in our hair.
This is the day,
the last one of my life.
This is the day,
I will stand up and fight.
Here I am laying,
in building one.
The first one hit,
the first to get done.
Today was so normal,
just fine as can be.
We were doing our papers,
some grabbing coffee.
When the plane hit,
there was a load noise.
As the floor shook, I thought
about my last choice.
To sit here and die
cowering in fear?
Or do I stand up and fight
for everyone near?
Managing quickly,
I begin to get up.
I find a close window
to see if its stuck.
I pull and pull,
as it gets hard to breath.
Gathering my strength
I let out with a heave.
I gather my colleagues,
collapsed on the floor.
I set them up slowly then
push them out the door.
When they are out
the buiding starts to crumble.
I know in a second
I will be under rubble.
Now here I sit,
Counting only to seven.
This was my last stand
Right here on 9/11.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry. From the broken soul.
Thơ caPoetry written over a time span of over ten years. This includes some of my darkest and lightest moments and the stories of others. Most deal with topics such as suicide, depression, family, eating disorders, religion, self harm, acceptance, recover...
