Isolation
is when the only place
to hide
is inside yourself.

You wrap it in a paper dream
and label it with honesty

Your version of reality

Shouting out a twisted truth
supported by your
manufactured proof
absolving you
from the lies you tell.

Well

All roads lead to madness
and the unhinged swinging gate
where suspicion
screams
in accusation
and stains
the purity of love with hate.

Innocence stares
wide eyed and helpless
denied
as hope
dismayed
slowly fades.

The wrong creed
seals their fate
the right creed
in another place
this creed
preaches hate
for all
who show the other face.

Whose creed sans pitie'
whose face
whose proof
whose version of reality
whose heartless twisted truth

empowers the fist with righteousness
and holds the key to life and death?

here. But not anymore.  Instead
of jackets and bags flung over
fences there’s a sign tied to it that says
closed until further notice. Instead of

swings flying high into the sun
they’re just empty chairs hanging on
chains. What a shame. No more sounds
of laughter, children running after

the ice-cream truck. Sorry kid; you’re out
of luck. You got to stay inside your home
so, the virus doesn’t spread.  Go back
to bed. You’ve no playdate. Your friends

can’t come to call. You can’t play
basketball. The field has empty bases. It
disgraces me that they took our playground
away from us. From dawn to dusk - emptiness