The sun still rises in the morning.
Chocolate still tastes like chocolate.
I'm still here but others aren't.
Where did they go?
They are on the mantle
Or under the snow.
How do you close a gaping wound?
Which of those things
is the greater sin?...
Guns or butter
give way to inconsolable tears.
A different war comes home,
With different fears.
When a building is bombed
We expect shock and awe.
But how does one fight a plague?
You can't shoot it or drop a bomb.
The dead died choking,
Their voices suffocating.
But their voices cry to us.
So many pillars,
dropped to the ground.
From Angel voices to Screech.
Gone before their time.
A silent war of disappearances
And silence.
Yet we hear them in our heads.
We have to speak for them.
I, Chris
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