Upon the graph the wavy line
Sinks with our hopes who stay confined.
The lockdowns lengthen
For Corona.

Strange is the year when meeting’s banned,
And strangely touched a touchless land,
Estranged in terror
Of Corona.

Prosperity declines and dives
Where flap the tatters of their lives
Who’ll die unheard yet
‘With Corona’.

Song of my soul, my muzzled voice
Is dead, as freedom and free choice
Shall be what die now
Of Corona.

Adapted from a setting in which documents cause mass psychosis and not wearing a mask terrifies.