This isn't much different. Just further, more stagnant.

I sit in my room with the lights dim, losing track of the days and my brain's caving in but-

This isn't that much different. I'm used to alone, seeing friends on the phone, and creating art for my sanity. Only thing is that now everyone is alone fighting to save our humanity.

Sure, I miss the the trips to the local craft store. Dancing on a stage. All the little chores, we took for granted.

But the sun is still warm, the wind howls, the trees sing. The sky is more blue, lacking toxins we bring. The forest is silent and peaceful, you see. 

I'd say we'll be okay with a few extra weeks.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


Jan Wienen

Thank you


Dope lines

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