nine one one

for those that were lost eleven years ago today, that didn't get a chance to speak.

nine one one.

a number that's supposed to keep us safe,
a number that ensures we are not alone.

nine one one.

a date written in red,
stained into our minds forever.

nine one one.

a warning that you can change the world,
that a single what-if can turn into something so unimaginably powerful it takes a minute to sink in.

nine one one.

a trio of numbers holding the world on its shoulders,
a constant reminder that no matter what we say to ourselves,
we are not safe.

it's a people to people kind of world.

too much communication could override the whispers;
those side conversations everyone ignores when they shouldn't.

nine one one.

it will always be shrouded in if-onlys,
caught in a warped darkness too confused to see any light.

now that we understand,
it seems simple to prevent.

there are machines that can do it,
things that make our inhuman ideas possible.

there are things that can think for us,
but really,
they can't replace the human mind.

you can't expect a machine to cry at the graves of those we have lost,
or scream into silence when there's no one to listen.

it is our responsibility to carry on this journey,
for those that nine one one wasn't enough for.

it was the people that started this,
and it shall be the people that end it.

a single idea can change the world,
for better or for worse.