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September 11, 2001

Who is this person inside of me?

I don't recognize them
for I have many faces.
When my eyes are watery
I'm thinking, what has provoked them?
When my lips are shivering
and bitter icy

I'm asking myself
am I chilly cold?
Or is it the spelling of FEAR
through the frown of my scared face?

Does FEAR have a limit?
Or does it have a foe?
My life changes
as my fear grows stronger and stronger

What will tomorrow become?
Another different face . . .


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Daniala Iordache writes. “On that day, I was in high school, I still remember that kid who just ran in our classroom with tears in his eyes and frightened look on his face. He whispered something to our teacher, when he suddenly looked pale. He got up from the desk and opened the TV right in the middle of our final exam.

”I was thinking, what could be more important than our final exam? It must be the Superbowl or something like that. But, unfortunately, it wasn't . . . just then, we were the
witnesses to the most horrifying tragic we've ever seen. It had such an impact on me, that I just felt the need to express my feelings on a blank paper. I guess that's how this poem came out.”