Weep

Then a trade centre that hadn't crossed by ears, now a tourist attraction, a bow in reverence tributes the memory. Boarded visuals on metal fencing, the ruins are trying to speak. I'm such a long way from home. Someone call nine eleven... but it's too late.

Twenty four months next week, the screams are imagined, so weep! The sky looks friendly when we look up, it's no longer cracked and cursed for gravity, a new trust. The buildings are black with scars and I'm such a long way from home. Someone call nine eleven...but it's too late.

Was Chrysler watching? She reflects the clouds. Did she see it coming? I hope not.

Standing aversion, tragic sadness and loss, standing ovation, for the brave and the missing. Standing in silence, a shell of the living, I don't know how I should feel, this city feels so tortured.

Was Chrysler watching? She reflects the clouds.

Written by Chris Yeoman