9:11I stare at the clock,it reads the same as it does.9:11 it whispers into my ears.Ashes fall from my ceiling,as faint screams echo throughout my mind.The clock still reads 9:11,its frozen there within time.I see one then both-They go down fast...so fast.9:11 the clock reads-forever it reads.Written within history,the clock tells me about devastation-the clock floods my mind.Memories...Pictures...Pain.9:11, as it still reads.
David's Story-For 9 11The teacher droned on and on, and David Sullivan was slouching in his seat. He was in no mood to listen to the teacher. He wasn't in the mood to listen to anyone."And, now, class," she said. "We're approaching a day that was life-changing for the USA: Nine eleven."David pretended not to hear her. He did not want to talk about that day. It was a terrible day, and it made him emotional. Everyone seemed to know it too, because he felt several eyes burning into him. They were waiting for David to break down, which he did every year."Thousands died, because of 15 men," she said. "Destroying the towers
People burned, and others were buried in the rubble and debris-"And that's when David snapped. He laid his head on his desk and started to cry. Everyone was staring, but he didn't care. Covering his head with his arms, he sobbed."Oh, David," the teacher said with s