The viral flood

We're but prisoners of a war,

Only that it is waged by a virus.

They say optimism must be incurable

But so are the victims of the war.

Stranded in lockdown,

Nature seems to evolve;

Perhaps a visual lesson unlearned.

We're but the masters of our minds,

Adapting eventually to changes.

Minds turned numb with mortifying groans,

Tears roll by confronting the news;

As we lie afraid,

Unable to perceive our destiny.

We did adapt to the lockdown

But perhaps, not the virus.

We're but a lesson ourselves,

As we look on at the chaos we created.

Our mistakes lie unshaken,

In the cradle of Mother Nature;

But perhaps it was time to be scolded,

And now we dwell in regret.

Minds turned into centres of fear,

We wade through the viral flood.

We're but redeemer of our trauma,

With hope residing in the pinnacle

Of our agitated existence.

Let us wade through the last droplet,

With quarantine as our movement,

For we're the rulers of our mental health,

As the natural vengeance

Seeks to teach us;

So shall we learn.

So shall we learn.