The Front
A muddy black line
of demarcation
In the filled
treads of boots
Trudged through
the rain of your
tempers and
lost intentions
Now stuck between
making a peace
and fighting on
a losing battle
where holding
our arms
is the only
yet wrong
place to go
Nowhere to win
Nothing left to lose
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
The Front
A muddy black line
of demarcation
In the filled
treads of boots
Trudged through
the rain of your
tempers and
lost intentions
Now stuck between
making a peace
and fighting on
a losing battle
where holding
our arms
is the only
yet wrong
place to go
Nowhere to win
Nothing left to lose
Every day is a struggle.