The cries of fallen stars and stripes pierced the...
The very cracking of broken mirrors...
Fly it high
Fly it proud...
Tears did not come to me
they left with the yellow star...
Purple flowers lie upon
A cold and heartless grave...
Theres teddies, their stuffed
Then flowers they die...
Standing on a riverbank,
He looked at his reflection...
I am who come with eternal gloom
I am who leave with ephemeral doom...
Nobody knows what its like carrying an m-16,
Nobody knows how it feels when a helmet is worn...
At every break of dawn
My soul wails from a faint heart...
Sweet dainty hands with candle-like fingers
Nails trimmed enough to titillate one in sight...
I sit in the dark with eyes stare at none
With my heart so heavy as mound of stones...
**I wrote this poem on the evening of September...
September 11, 2001...