Author: Tanvi Jain
At a standstill
A momentary truce
The clock ticks no further than four.
You put down your weapons
I lower my walls
We move to walk out the door
You try to halt me
A desperate plea. Stop!
I cannot bear to hear more
But your lowered eyes
Make me go soft
Until the vitriol starts to pour
Battlestations ready,
Attacks from each side
Blood a steady downpour
Our bodies stained maroon
No end in sight, till
Nothing was left but gore
the clock struck four
we were stuck at four
at least we made it to four.
