From the depth of an Ocean blue,
sprang this life, known as you.
A build not like one or another,
brought forth by an ancient mother.

The randomness of words,
lay on my plate.
Too many words may come
and they will suffocate.
The thoughts that are now
running through my head,
wishing they were happy,
but No; fearful instead
The words have become hateful;
not what they should be,
for I care for my own
and for strangers too,
as life has given pause
of what one can do.
A scary situation. It's been hard,
for if you are not diligent
and let your down your guard
you could be the victim
of Co-vid nineteen.

I do not like
the words that I write,
for some are cruel
and others quite trite.
Has the hate of one person
ruined my one good trait,
or must I rethink the words
and I can write and wait?

I pray to the heavens.
I utter no sound,
For my prayer in
Words, cannot be found.
I pray for the souls
Of those struck down,
By the virus, Pro-vid 19;
One of the words pandemic
The World has ever seen.
What do we do?
Where do we stand
When it has been months
And there still is no Plan.
No plan from the current regime,
Who doesn't care one little ounce,
But looks only at the Stock market bounce.
A terrible choice, at least to me
As the decisions made, lives in infamy.