By now I sing my lonely songs in times of crowned disease. No matter what whom it belongs, it doesn’t really please. We pray our covid prayers together you and me, faces masked in layers of distant proximity.
Will I stay until tomorrow in anger or in pain? No, it shall not cause me sorrow, I will not grow insane! Good blessings though are few: my mind, as fresh as morning dew, has always been in quarantaine. It’s all the same that has ever been.
