Dear Mr. Corona Virus,

As the nib meets the paper,
My hand trembles.
All in readiness to notify you:
“You do not belong here!”

I have watched you from afar
As you turn smiles into mourns,
Secretly snatching the bravery out of gallant men,
Violently exchanging some sweet moments with families for sours;

Men are remorsefully saying goodbye when they need to say welcome.

Distance is chewing unto the sweet taste of love,
And intentionally spitting out bitter breakouts

The hands are not allowed to depict the tenderness of the heart
for the sick.
The streets have turned...