Quarantine
He returned to his self, paranoid.
Confined to his appetite void,
The heritage of his past modern charge,
While the world was shutting his doors.
It presumably decided to stop his vigour
And let him run for his life
And lockdown, which might discharge
What remains of his being and human pride.
Either the world ends “in fire” or “in ice”
It’s due to human’s greed and vice
It’s high time to reconstruct his inside
And fill the void up with all he is worth.
So-called poetry of Biba@2020
So-called Poetry of Biba 