We asked God- "When will this situation improve?" He kept mum, and we expected soon,
Minutes became hours, hours became days,
Days became months; if not worse, now, it's still the same.
And we don't still give up hope, but it rushes away,
As if teasing us, there's no point of it being here,
"Humans, ha! You're fools, you did this to you!" they scream,
We go to flashbacks, zoning out in a daydream.
"Don't go there!" Grandma hushed, pulling me in tight,
"Why the heck doesn't she lemme play on that nice furniture!" inwardly I yelled,
Little did I know it was a funeral pyre,
My paternal Gram was dead, and they all were liars.
Those were sun-shiny days, dead bodies had respect,
Souls who left to be on the other side of the world, to be safe,
They told me- "Gramma is gonna go somewhere," But she could go anywhere, for all I did care.
And when finally the bad-baby COVID comes along,
Throw the bodies out! The hospitals have to do that, it's harmful, right?
The tendrils of innocence unwrap themselves all along,
I understand, the souls can no more sleep tight.
This is a difficult time, we've got to adjust,
Souls groaning, in disturbed sleep,
Days of anxiousness, fear and unrest,
And I wonder of souls who rot in neglect.
