Corona Bologna
Rich, poor, or well-connected,
This thoughtless virus has you selected.
You may have tested negative,
But get too sick you'll beg ta live.
In simple rooms I wait alone,
I have no fear as I atone
For all mistakes that I have made
That memory now my world invade.
All across this wide wide land
The tempest life again has planned
To separate, to take me whole
From all I've known in my brief role.
Collect your money, collect your things
This virus thrives as death it brings.
It doesn't think about your dreams,
These simple proteins, your cells it reams.
So, hoard away or take from others
As breath of life it simple smothers.
Who gets what or who gets tests
Will never matter in earthly rests.
Barry G. Wick
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