Why did I try to stop this thing
I always knew was coming?
Why did I waste the energy
on a war I knew I wouldn't win?

Was it pride?
Was it ego?
Was it self-denial?

Nothing matters now.
The monster is here for me
and I have no choice to follow.

It can be no other way.

People panicking.
Masks on faces everywhere.
Toilet paper gone.

How did we ever end up in this tragedy?

And how are we ever going to escape it?

I feel as though all my words
have been drained from my spirit.
Like a vacuum cleaner ******* up dust
from a living room carpet.

I stare at the blank page in agony.
But nothing comes.
The maestro has no music.
The artist has no paint.

There is so much I long to share with the world
but for now my body seems content
to keep it all inside.

So I will step away from the desk
and disappear for now.
In hopes my pen will return someday.

I'm afraid of a great many things
but I'm not scared of falling ill.

I don't think the virus will **** me.

The society around me will.

It’s quiet outside tonight

For a fleeting moment
The world almost seems to
make sense again.

But that subtle mirage of normalcy
Is quickly shattered
by the eerie absence of sound
everywhere around me.

There are no engines
There is no singing.
No laughter.
No dancing.
No cheering.

An almost perfect silence
Save for the faint whisper of a girl
Who longs to be with her friends.

I stare up at the stars
For a brief moment am taken in
by the gentle beauty of the universe.

Suddenly sirens pierce the night.
Reality comes rampaging back.
And I find myself wishing I could
turn back the pages of the book of my life
to escape this madness.

But it is not to be.
So I will stand stoically in the darkness

And wait for the coming dawn.

It's sunny outside.
The temperature is perfect.
Above my head
The sky is a perfect crystal blue.

Birds are singing.
The river is vibrant.
A soft breeze weaves
its way through the trees.

It is by most measures
a perfect day.
And yet I stand in the middle of it all
terrified and uncertain.