My Covid-19
1 min readMay 20, 2020
poem
checkered gray covered floors, doors that are closed some that are open.
people walk by like the last of the human race, unaware of the emptiness before them like everything will stay the same.
like they could be the same without it.
where do we go, some want to know, but none want to answer.
checkered covered floors, distant music playing in the background, a dying world, and we’re so lost without it.
