To fight till last with no tomorrow's store,
They bicker loud and bite amongst themselves
And chew upon the papered spoils of war.
The panic breeds! A newer virus spawns:
Contagious fear, no mask could filter out
And sends them running fierce; it's frantic pawns,
'Till barest bares the shame to linger 'bout.
As paper, food depletes it's end of day;
Disgruntled many leave and wane their shop
With curse upon their lips, here not to say!
Then back again new beasts that cannot stop.

Yes I proclaim here's me: oh the wiser!
'Wait, No! Hands off, that's my sanitiser!"