#WritcoPoemChallenge
#CoronaVirus
The days too eventually fell silent,
No sounds, not even by the crows,
All you could hear was the sound of,
Fear knocking on the doors,
Tapping and rapping on the doors --
of this bleak, bleak moors
Of mind where its devoid;
and nothing to see with the eyelid,
but darkness and emptiness there;
with whistling wind, whispering Fear.
Beware! Beware of the Silence!
It is carrying a sharp steel scythe --
experienced of handling rice --
He would reap us in a single strike;
When the dusk opens a door for the night.

© Anonymous Pseudonym