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Alexis K Jun 2020
Freshman year:
"Creepy-Crusty Freshman"
We thought we had it together,
but everyone else knew.
We were just beginning,
We were separate, naive and secluded.

Sophomore year:
Forgotten students.
Not ready for college
Yet not a new baby to coddle,
We were simple floating and following the beaten path.

Junior Year:
Most stressful endeavors
ACTs, SATs, AP tests
Do good they said,
Prepare for senior year,
"It goes by fast"
So do this and do that, but don't do that.

Senior Year:
Apply for colleges!
Don't be late! Meet the deadlines!
Senioritis.
We wanted it to go by fast and they said it would, and it did.
So fast that our last day was March 16th
Instead of May 22nd
We had no idea that we would never say a proper goodbye,
that we would never throw our caps to fly high,
that we would never dance to tacky music for the last time at our 'senior prom'
We had no idea what senior year would be.
But we now know what it was not.
It was not easy
not simple or complete,
straight-forward or whole,
Not ordinary and certainly not fair.

2020 Seniors did not get a senior year.
We did not get open houses for the masses,
Or graduation with peers from our classes.

In kindergarten we were told to stand tall and speak up, and chin up. Make friends because they'll be with you your whole school life. One day you will cross the stage with them.

But senior year we were told to be quiet, wear a mask. Stay inside, don't say goodbye, good luck on your own. You'll graduate alone.
Coming from a 2020 senior, this year has been rough on us and extremely weird. This is just to try and make it a little clearer for people who don't understand how it has affected seniors. I have personally seen adults attack seniors for sharing their emotions and to say that we were overreacting. But this is a global pandemic that has LITERALLY stripped us of our senior experiences. I had bought my prom dress before we knew we weren't coming back, i bought my cap and gown and was looking forward to walking the stage. Unable to do these things, it affects us.
K Balachandran Jun 2020
Masks bridle passion.
'Pandemic rules' enforce distance.
Love,corona reimagined!
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
With the ****** Virus,
continuing it's Live Concert
on Earth
and Hell stacked,
with all Our Devil's.
I for One,
am keeping My Fingers crossed
and Praying........
that Heaven will Host Me
on their Premises.
Alicia Prax Jun 2020
Blood for ink
As I seal your fate
A deadly pandemic
Will lead you astray
Bullets and politics
Won’t prevail
The strongest survive
While the weaklings fade.

Slowly but surely
I’ll take back what’s mine
Two thousand years
And a thousand designs
For vengeance, for justice,
Cold and cruel
A mother’s justice
Tough love- fuelled.

Warnings were spurned
Not once or twice
Greed and Envy
Took root in a trice
Beware, beware,
I surmise
That our cries and sighs
Will be our final goodbyes.
Kairosclere Jun 2020
Billions of people
All over the world
Are knee deep in fear
It is but the tragedy of death
That threatens to keep
The closest near.
This worldwide pandemic
Not only a punishment,
But a time for self reflection
On all that we have done:
All the bruises we have caused
All the tears we cried.
And as nature slowly heals herself
Amidst humans
Keeping their tails in check,
Sparrow song trills once again
And swans find their home,
And as rare as the golden birds.
The human mayflies
Take in a moment and
Search themselves
Clean themselves
And stay still
For once in their lives
Waiting, watching, listening,
Growing closer hour by hour-
That all those decades running
Couldn't provide,
And retort
Back to being human again.
As nature heals her
Cuts and wounds
We, her children,
Are too birthed anew.
Written based off of the pandemic.
Shiv Pratap Pal Jun 2020
They are so much cunning and cruel
Yet they possess, intelligence and smartness
Yes, they are filled with over confidence
They are absolutely shameless too

Don’t you feel my dear?
They don't have any sort of fear
They are beating us, hitting us
And we are helplessly watching them

They are neither allowing us to weep
Not they are letting us to cry loud
They are snatching our source of livelihood
They are looting our meagre savings too

They are boring bigger holes in our pockets
By their powerful invisible technological drills
Selling all sorts of stuff they use to produce
Drugs, sanitizers, hand washes and what not

They are asking to keep our ugly mouth fully shut
By putting beautiful, colourful and fancier masks
They are not letting us to meet our friends
They are not letting us to share our meals

They are not allowing us to share our views
They are not allowing us to share our thoughts
With any of our friend, relatives and fellow citizens
They are just telling us to follow whatever they say

They are throwing ******* and garbage on us
In the name of science, health and hygiene
There appears to be not much science
In their so call science and modern science

Shamelessly they proclaim to be our saviours
Saving us from the army of an invisible enemy
Although existence of any such army is doubtful
But their intentions are doubtful and doubtful

If any such invisible army of enemy really exists?
It may have been raised and owned by them only
To **** the lives of all the other fellow humans on earth
And to fulfil their greed and lust for power and money

They are planning to inject in our bodies
Some drugs, chemical or any such thing
They will even charge money for that
And try to fill their everlasting greed

I wonder, who they are?
God, Demi Gods or the Devils
Or they are just a band of inhuman
Resembling a band of nasty humans

Do they really have some superpower?
Or they are just a bunch of ugly parasites?
Trying to draw everything from our lives
Just to feed himself and to recreate his own life
A poem from the point of view of  conspiracy theorists.
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
Darling........stay far away from Me,
for a few days More.
Until The Monster,
reduces it's victims Score.
We should not hold Hands,
in times like This.
No more Nights,
of Midnight Bliss.
The World is freaked out,
with the ****** Virus.
It hasn't spared Tom,  
****, Harry nor Cyrus.
It will be lingering for a While,
like Viruses usually Do.
Then leaving Us for Good,
when We discover a Vaccine or Two.
So hold on to your kisses,
until this Nightmare gets Over.
Then U can pass them to Me,
your sweet, sweet Lover.
Shibu Varkey Jun 2020
stood before my misty
bedroom window pane
I saw hazy scenes of future
and my gray reflected face

blotches, smudges, patches
feelings, emotions, thoughts
on that bedewed window
of a million human hearts

my bare palm feels the glass
cold indelible marks.
forms a million faces
in that frosty glass

Gazing deeply at me
from beyond the glass
the hungry and the bleeding
from a thousand miles.

My heart begins to wonder
what scenes are yet to come
beyond that misty window
as the days come and go by

Will warm rays of sunshine
ensure the mist goes dry,
or raindrops bathe the pane
and wash away it stain.

but those searching gazes,
of a million stained faces,
of bleeding feet and wishes
forever is etched in that pane
this poem is based on my thoughts on the migrant labourers walking hundreds of miles to reach their homes after the sudden lockdown in India
Kairosclere Jun 2020
By the ramp of the dearly departed
Still lay his faded fingerprints
While yet another
Was thrown in the morbid bed
Still reeking
like death

The hall deserted
His breathing slow
Hope fading
The morale low
Thoughts crept
Like death

And another after another
Was thrown into the list
Ever growing
Breaths slowing
Ever reeking
Like death

Lying in a corner
Groaning beneath the mask
A soul once alive
Moaning over the past
Waiting for a cure
Like death

And one last breath
Felt in the night
He wished to be his last
He couldn't hold on
To this madness, so
Like death

There was this glimmer
A ray of light
The suffering might end
Things could go right
Maybe slowly
Like death

The world was healing
Not all hope was dead
The once confined bodies
Will rise out of bed
Defeating tragedies
Like death

With a combined might
And hope alight
Strength in prayer
And hearts twinned
The world rose up
From death.
Inspired by the pandemic.
Orakhal Jun 2020
Pestilence be a cloak on great change
be in it not under it
wear it as a robe
invisible in a child's eye
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