Pandemic pains stored inside

All the pains

Accumulated in the

Voids, like the

Chits in a glass,


Bottled up


The tender heart;

The memories that

Still haunt—

That familiar smile

Comforting voice


— now, all lost to a cruel virus

That struck and killed mercilessly, everywhere,

Like a tyrant.

Wish some pains

Could fly away

Like the butterflies,

Rarely caught by the

Mischievous boys

For their table jars!

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