When a poet is broken
All the words have been spoken.
When pages have been shredded
And ink drained and wetted.
And when the heart stumbled
With words I fumbled.
When things don't feel right
Sadness one cannot fight.
Sometimes the tears don't fall
One needs a shoulder to bawl.
I dip my pen in the inkwell of my blood
Wait for the words to break free and flood.
Opening the floodgates of my heart
And see the sorrow flow and depart.
Then I realize it's all been a dream
Things are just not the way they seem.

Fortifications, ramparts, palaces and a lot of temples, because people were at the mercy of the gods. But here too there are countless versions, because the altars of the temples were moved with the change of the deities to whom they were worshiped.
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