They were already dead
but they jumped,
already a casualty
but they hoped –
miracles do happen –
so they leaped
away from the unbearable flames,
clinging to each breath that remained.
The day that terror reigned
yet they fought –
they knew they were dead
but they clawed,
refusing to give in
to the hate
of cowardly butchers of innocence,
intent on destroying by violence.
Demons sought death by fire
so they chose,
they began to fly.
They couldn’t escape;
they would die
but they refused,
they defied the flames that were chosen
and instead chose to do the unspoken.
It wasn’t suicide,
but a battle cry
of dignity,
of humanity,
of individuality.
Terror tried to choose;
but choices of the dead became a weapon;
Gone but never truly broken
