In some ways 2021
Is harder than 2020.
Its not the heavy downpour,
But the slow, unrelenting drip
That wears us down in the end.
Life before the pandemic
Seems increasingly distant
And much simpler in a sad way
Because it didn’t feel
That way at the time.
And it seems unclear
If this generation
Will be bound to always have
An impending sense of doom
Looking over its shoulder,
Waiting for another catastrophe.
Apocalypse now?
Caught in between
The nostalgia of a world without masks
And a disturbing sense
Of having no finish line,
This year has me feeling
Like a kid on a road trip-
‘Are we there yet?’
‘Are we there yet?’
heartinscriber 