September Eleven, two-thousand-and one.
Today is the day 3,000 lives are gone.
They are not gone, they are still here.
Through the memories, the thoughts, and all the tears.

Four planes were hijacked on this day,
The day that took our breath away.
World Trade Center was exploding.
While all our hears are imploding.

The towers fell and came crashing down.
People tried to escape and ran through town.
But some people were trapped in a burning building.
This is the terrorists’ way of mass killing.

Some were trapped on the top floors.
Sometimes they were five feet away from the door.
But the stairwells were burning, they couldn’t break free.
Out of their death sentence, their misery.

A plane crashed into the Pentagon as well,
Killing more people, as the story would tell.
They tried to escape, and some of them had.
Though others were trapped, the situation was bad.

The last plane was heading for the President’s home.
But the passengers would die alone.
For their bravery, they died in their own battlefield,
They overtook the plane and crashed in a Pennsylvanian field.

As the fire came closer, their death came near.
America was in front of their TVs and shedding tears.
We were never the same, we were under attack,
A country that gives but doesn’t get back.

Firefighters, police officers, regular civilians
Were trying to keep 3,000 people living.
Some lost their lives, a memorial states their name.
In a disastrous day, the terrorists’ game.