Poem -


I stood on the eighty-first floor looking down,
there was dust and debri spread all over town,
no way back and no way forward for me to go,
they all looked up at me, so many floors below.

I thought of my life - I only had seconds left now,
better than most, we all had to go sometime anyhow;
perhaps I could fly, then I wouldn't think that I'd die,
soaring without wings, I didn't even have to try.

No, this wasn't suicide - I was just caught in the attack,
then the realization hit me - I wanted my life back,
it had just been the start of another working day,
and God put me here, all alone, looking down on the bay.

So it was over, my out-of-body experience was complete,
I thought I'd do better next time, as the floor broke beneath my feet.


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