I hate it when a virus comes back,
to torment you over and over,
just when you started to earn the pace,
back to living  like a 4 leaf clover.

As a child, I rarely ever got sick,
until a red rose finger pricked
Now its agony and trauma
of being dehumanized,
as the only flowers ever picked

Wild as the spreading of covid 19
On trains congested heat boiling,
Fingers point to each of every Judge
obsessed like a kid with choc fudge.

There's only really one true Virus,
Its called the Virus of this Living,
we imagine our veins swollen bleeding
as the stitches come apart from the seams.