Fort.

October 18, 2017
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There is a different quiet

That fills the foreign air.

I try to close my eyes but

There is no comfort there.

 

The strangers press for answers

I'd never dare to give.

I cannot breathe for begging.

The distance closes in.

 

I sit alone with knives and wind,

And whittle stakes from sticks.

The trick is keeping tears inside -

I've run all out of tricks.

 

Abandoned by the ones I love,

They say I'm having fun.

I choke on words I have not said.

This war cannot be won.






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