Dear C

Dear C

Woke up this morning

Struggling but admitting

that it’s

been a rough couple o’ months

Not wandering, but wondering

or maybe, just trying

to wonder

what your aim was, and is,

C.

 

Is it the “ever, precious” fame?

Is it the “never, gracious” shame?

 

‘Dear C, ‘

started writing

‘…for some reason I can’t see you,

Maybe ‘coz I started wishing…

that for some seconds, split seconds…

I could stare and glare,

at the view, of you…

straight into your eyes

and address you, yes you…’

 

‘Coz my mind can’t seem to be still

and believe

that wherever you visit, you don’t leave

It’s more than shreds of fear you instill…’

 

‘Like SONY’s slogan “make. believe”

I, myself,

am made to have, belief,

that you just want to kill: life, remove…

Not leave in peace

Not give relief

Not even a dime, not a piece…

of mind ‘

 

Is it some weird clout you wish to achieve?

Or is it just the fear you love to leave?

 

‘You’re nineteen now,

or are you now,

COVID?

The last two letters of yours – I and D

The halt of your name – one and nine

How surprising – weirdly feeling

that nine-teen or rather one and nine

make up the end, of your name…’

 

‘You got humans like me

talking ‘bout the end of times

concocting theories

‘bout the will of God

How creative:

Just a teenager-  based on an averagely aged, novel

Just a villager – only hurting this global, village…’

 

‘And I, up, not just in arms

sanitizing these arms

dowanna see you, dowanna talk

just wanna go out, maybe walk

experience the economy

get this self, my oh my –

 some cereal

and stop you from the serial –

killer, you’ve become.’

 

By

Harun Gad

“You’re nineteen now, or are you now, COVID?”

 

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