Christine Kuruvilla

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They say words and arms can kill,
So our mindless politicians made hundreds of bills.
Yet now we realise that man didn’t need words or arms,
To end up dead on bloody fields and farms.

All it takes is a moment,
And then no ones sentiment
Will matter,
And dreams of many shall shatter.

When we unintentionally stain blood red our hands,
And bodies lie scattered like dead flies on our lands.
Will our knowledge and education,
Save us from these deadly, worldly infections?

When hospital beds lie filled with rotting bodies,
And roads lie barren like those heard in prophecies.
Medicines and doctors,
Are who men now call “elixirs and saviours”.

How can we help when man can’t touch man,
And there lies before us no clear plan.
Now our lungs strain to take a breath,
And closer we are led to of our rosy beds of death.

We tell ourselves its a situation where one survives or dies,
But in reality, isn’t all this a result of our deadly lies?
When money won’t buy us health or happiness
All we can do is stand as helpless witness.

And even once this epidemic passes,
We still lie trapped in glass boxes.
Though we still continue to suffer,
Our will to survive now is much tougher.

We have been through worse,
Getting ourselves past every curse.
Hoping tomorrow a new dawn shall rise,
Man just a little more wise.
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