Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re depressed,
Caught in the throng of endless days,
Or maybe it’s just 2020, an undesirable guest,
With seconds flowing like minutes, and hours dressed
Like seas of months. When you sit on these docks and bays,
Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re depressed,
With all these readings of one too many devil’s advocates pressed
To talk about the latest killings. “Maybe it’s wrong”, he says,
“Or maybe it’s just”. 2020, this undesirable guest,
Has been a year and a decade and a century of unrest
For the wicked and the meek, and while no one knows who’ll inherit the earth these days,
Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re depressed
Or if it’s just growing pains of the oppressed
Waiting for a piece of kingdoms promised, with a gaze
On a maybe. But it’s just 2020, an undesirable guest
A boardgame with no winners, a quest
Where everyone loses with no grace or praise.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re depressed,
Or maybe it’s just 2020, the most undesirable guest.