What is this mess, this cuss, this
fuss
what bombed the new year...once full
of hopes and bliss
not a month through, the epidemic
battle blew
and put everybody exile
lovers
separated from others shut the gate
quarantined patients hovered fortune or fate
and the wait prolongs…
with despair and sad old songs
what patience befits the desire
to reunite
or the wish to fully recover
still the wait prolongs
I miss you that
is all they feel
I miss you that
is all they say
I am hoping to see you again one day
now they knew
what they strive for and want to
attain
human
connection—sincere affection
they were nothing without it hopeless empty
and in pain of exile they grew
