Nachi's pointless rants and recollections

Yes, I cried. I'm still trying to figure out why.
Maybe it had something to do with Osama Bin Laden's death.
No, I'm not sorry he died, I'm not glad either, I just got sad for what his death represented; more death!

How do things change?
Is the war over then?
Was this just about closure?

When I found out he died I was very quickly taken back in time, back to 2001.
I was woken rather violently.
"Nachi! Look at the television, look!"
I managed to look at the TV and I saw it, my home, my city, my country getting hurt.
I couldn't believe it, I thought I was still dreaming, this could not be happening.
I won't try to take you down that path right now, we all know what I saw, but how I felt back then, the emptiness, the rage, the sorrow, it all came back to me.
So I cried.
I mourned the dead once more and I just couldn't help the tears from coming.
Because no matter how many more die, it's still not over, we are still losing our own people to a mindless war that I still can't comprehend.
Granted, I am not at all familiar why this is still going on, but war is war, and no matter how I look at it, it's still wrong.

Anyway, this man is now dead, shall we move on now? Are we safe now?
Ronald had a request for me today.
"Please don't ride the subway this week."
I hadn't thought of that, should I be worried?
Is the other side going to want to attack us now?

It never ends does it?

Death does not come for me.
It sees me suffer, yet it does not care.
It would be so easy, to die, to not exist.
Death does not care, it mocks me.

Just the other day someone died right next to me.
Me? No, it mocks me. Death does not care.
I suffered, I pained, death eludes me.
My heart is ripped opened, I bleed, but not to death.
I fall into the blackness, it never ends, it never ends.
I fall but I don't care, I want to fall, I want to die.
Death does not care for my tears, it doesn't care for my pain, it mocks me.

Death does not care, it kills all around me,
death kills all around me and watches me bleed.
Depression, agony, perversion.
Death does not want me. I am nothing and it does not want me.
I've been chewed up and spit out, I have nothing.
My hands are empty, I reach but they are empty.
I burn from the inside, such a pain I've endured yet death does not pity me.
She laughs, she points, she smirks but she does not take me.
Take me, please take me, I beg you!
She laughs.
Death does not take me.

(Before anyone gets antsy, this is just a poem. I remembered something from my past and I got inspired, I am alright, I promise.)