After the Disaster
There’s always a ponderance on the day after the eve of a disaster,
something that calls to a poet
(It’s quiet now let the mind work)
Had I been in the tower that smoke ridden day,
I think I might’ve touched a cloud and left without delay
For when they said “a second plane has crashed into the world trade center” there was a terror that wrenched inside from these rotten
terrorists,
It had us all thinking what we’d miss
If we became face to face with the abyss We wonder while the sky turns black am I right, every night?
When we shouldn’t have to wonder,
And if you wake up thinking what now, the worst will surely happen,
Expectations are rarely met, as nothing revolves around us,
For if the stars attempted a revolution around our sickly form,
We’d likely turn to dust,
Thus remove the sparkles from your eyes and think moments ahead in
time,
For if a tragedy happened today would you be the weeping wounded,
or sifting through the rubble?
If we face our days like empty boxes, with items we sell for pennies, then as such our days are numbered and our life is just as any?