Here in my room, alone, typing.
The world in turmoil from created
virus weapon, another gift of mad
politics to the good people.
I am at a loss now over where to go,
what to think of all the information
I have seen repeated endlessly,
and I have no place to feel at home.
Here in the country, turning into city,
traffic like a river in front of the house,
I used to have peace, gardens, dirt.
Now I have madness and nonsense.
Where will I go from here?
Perhaps I will stay another year,
to witness the downfall of society
when all hell breaks loose in a month.
When I look in the mirror I see an old man,
wracked with pains of body and mind.
How I survived so long, in one piece,
is mysterious and frightening, an enigma.