Quarantine

 

I sit around uninspired

Listening to sounds of music and rain

I’ve never been so bored my whole life

I don’t really know what I’m writing

Just bullshits as usual in the time being

The rules of the rulers that are spinning

In their minds that is to be frank

Ten days, in a hotel, alone, what for?

Money splurging?

Safety measures?

Against your dirty mouths that is, maybe

Doesn’t make sense

Doesn’t. Make. Sense.

We’re more bored than being dead

While feeding our money to the capitalists

The rulers behind this rule

As if we don’t see the dirts you’re making

Come on, just set us free

Your rules don’t cross my understanding

They just make literally no freaking sense

There’s only one bullshit bigger than this poem 

It’s this quarantine

Set us free.