How do we make the sound?
Sound so pretty,
With the lungs of the world
Running on the borrowed respirator?
Corona making us run out of F*cks
With mouths sanitized of swear words.
The rain of the fall
The grace for those that fall
The ground to bury those that fall
Running the lungs
Of the world on the pavement of pain.
We have run out of f*cks to give!
What do we dance for?
In the cruel rhythm-less song of life
We want to cry,
But we are afraid of touching our eyes.
Staggering with hospital sheets
To get it right.
©Ssekajja K Ronald 2020
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