those who wander

cold war

[not about the actual cold war, just a poem taking place during a war]

our eyes close for they seek the dark,
and our breath hitches for the air stings.
our thoughts disperse for thinking is dangerous,
and our limbs freeze from the cold they bring.

we hold hands, but the feeling is numbed,
and one by one our falls meet the ground.
we walk with no talk as another is lost,
and nothing is done for our fates are all bound.

white quilts blanket the mountainous ridges,
and what we have is just enough for slumber.
we quit once we realize there's no need to fight,
and our men cease to be in great numbers.

we have to keep going. but we aren't getting anywhere.
we have to keep marching. but i need to rest.
we have to keep pushing. but it's no use.
we have to, have to, have to. but we were never their guest.

our leader has fled among the fallen,
and we are left unguided and covered in sores.
fluffs of snow beckon me with their shivering chills,
and they whisper in the wind, "it can be no more."

what can i do now that i'm alone?
what can i do as the only one left?
all i have done is leave footprints in the snow.
their deal offers a promise, and i accept.