The countless parade

towards mourn 's hail

One over the another

stuffed in numbers

on graveyard's land.

Shrieking in the void

full of hollow entrails,

running hither tither

Diseased with hollow bones.

Those hands with thief's deed

but heart of a mere child

pleading to cure their own needs.

The virus dancing in the mist

Inviting humans to their mysterious

lyrics.

Bed stricken, lost lives

So much tears brimmed in our eyes.

Medicines garnished

with fruits rich in vitamins,

and grains full of lavish;

Served to those with fields

Of coins growing in dehisce.

Oh did you see!

Those crowned with virus are getting their needs.

Not all,

but the concern has leaped

to limit its reach.

Humans are selfish

Selfish enough to design

Every cure to protect this world from corona's sins

where those poor lurking on the streets

licking the bins,

spreading their hands just to calm their bellies.

Oh how sick we are;

Sick enough to not stand up against this filth.

Where crystal beads

descend the crown;

snow feeding

springtime’s vision

and

on pine needles,

elk lie down

’til morning sun has risen.

Where time is frozen,

heart content,

the moment —

all I need,

but striving for

my betterment,

preventing stagnancy.

You keep running

through my mind.

Even in daydreams,

I rehearse.

Please be kind to me.

Rewind.

Our last words,

each line, I verse.

So,

I pour you

on the page;

black and blue.

Goodbye.

I’m done.

Tears spill

and all’s a haze.

Even in ink

y s t r

o t o u

u a n.

r

t

I held onto her pale white hand,

rubbing my thumb over the purple marks on her skin,

not caring if the disease would transfer to me

Although, I wish it would

I want to see those purple dots crawl up my arms and legs

Cover my eyes and whisper in my ears,

¨You wear the mark of death.¨

I want to see her skin turn the color of peaches in spring

I want her lips to become as red as coral

I want her eyes to wander about the room with curiosity

I want to feel the warmth of her hand as she squeezes me tight

I want to smile and tell her that I will see her in just a little while

I want to lie and tell her that she will live

Although, half of what I said would be true

I would see her again

She would come out in that same stretcher once more

Only this time,

Covered by a white-blanketed death