*the morning of september 12th*
Helpless in my own recluse,
Pondering the tragic news.
Wondering about our future
And the young we have to nurture.

The panicked need someone to hate.
Although they know it is too late.
Crying doesn't vent their sorrow.
For it will be in minds tomorrow.

This massacre has had an end.
How long will we take to mend?
Our nation now has loved ones gone.
I ponder this at breaking dawn.
*poetry and songs*
*main*
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