Our End-Coronavirus

Our End-Coronavirus

Trapped in this place called home,
With nothing but the aura of our own.
The future is sad and bleak,
With our chance of survival very weak.
The flow of the universe is not altruistic,
It clouds man's mind with illusions both bleak and mystic.
The poor have no place but open land,
United we fall, divided we stand.
But death has proved once again to be a good teacher,
Showing man that they are creature's of mortal misfeature.
Death is the only thing people listen to,
When death usually comes, he takes people two and two.
But this time death has come like a wave,
Showing man to his dark cave.
The cave is the place where no one talks,
It is the place where the sun sails and the moon walks.

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