We were in confided spaces before,
           in open air. Where we never mingled...
But at least we had company that we were
next to, now were in solitary confinement.

Now were 6 foot or 72 inches or 182.88cm
                from the nearest person, I don't know them,
they were here before me,
                                             celled up.
Slow walk, felt like a life time, so few steps..

But this is a funeral prosecution,
               is the one in front of me going to cough,
                                                                ­          sneeze..
Will they cover up or infect me, ME…
With there I don't know what's, could it be hay fever.

Could be me coughing in seven, to when I have a ventilator
shoved down my insides, I'm a breathing coffin..
        Just being buried slowly..
                                           they burn you now...
But I'm not there yet, I wash my hands.
                

"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me,
        I hope I wash my hands enough to see my  
                                                            ­     next birthday.
  But I'm wishing my hand happy birthday now,
            So soar but I'm happy birthdaying all week.

We in an open prison, free but unable to escape,
               I look out my window and breath..
      The air is a lot fresher that it used to be..

Another week passes, I write lines on the wall
         of my incarceration, I'm in a cell of luxury.
But I've never felt so alone.
     Were all roses, wilting due to lack of sunlight...