Diseased hearts
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.
Purple-Spotted Peaches
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