The curse upon me stays
With a plan upon its head
Its deceiving strain and viral grain
It threatens to out live the past
The perfect picture had been drawn
We gave up the last snap of the wind
It spread through the veins
And the blood shattered the strength
We smiled to cover up the pain
But couldn’t say a word
We snapped the power of the wind
And stopped the breath
The sprout of the virus had been clamped
With no way of it to spread its wings
With no wind to praise its side, its deceiving strain, and its
viral grain
It was so preserved in me, to out live its past
1 comment:
Nice poem!!!
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