Vacuum

I feel a vacum today, a sense of hollowness, as if life were empty and void.
It is, in a sense.
The world imploded, six years ago, for many of us.
And after the shockwave of horror settled, after the dust was driven away by the wind, the screams of the wounded and dying were muted by the noise of the buildings crumbling down and after the silence of death covered everything, we can recognize the faces of the traitors, the face of the ones who don't care about the death and destruction, and who are slaughtering liberty instead of fighting terror.
The vast hole in downtown Manhattan speaks about that.
Loudly.
It's empty.
Six years have passed, and the political correctness and the politicking have gotten in the way.
Because.... God forbid we call terrorist terrorists, or assassins assassins.
No.
The stone laid in the bottom of that well doesn't even mention terrorism.
The flowers dry and die in the chain link fence everyday.
My skin an my hair smell of fuel, again, today.
My eyes are dry.
There is ash in my shoes.
I have a hard time finding a vein, again.
I am almost deaf, again.
I walk, and I rip my sleeve again.
I am a ghost, and I am a wrath.....