Afraid of the gnawing consequences,
Have I locked myself in a room,
Echoes of the dead past moon,
Have devoured the sun that shines high up,
A shadow that creeps over the shattered pieces of mirror,
A guilt that looms,
Shall forever be with me in this dark chamber,
Until the pandemic haze, engulfing every spec of light, obliterate,
And, the tormented souls of the dead past, unshackle .