Block the cold winds blowing from the north
Frozen in time mistakes keep you from moving forth
Like the heavy winds from the north
You stop and weap
Holding down a crumbling fort
Eight days a week
You carry regret like a torch
Reminder: time is short

Open quarters
Small circles
Blown mortars
Follow orders
Closed borders
Such horror

All blurs
No cures
Blood pours
More tours
Four doors
His wars

© Delia Ross. 2020

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