How ironic it is—

That we have a lot of vacant time

But cannot go desired places

How free we are in work and classes

But cannot visit families and friends

How ironic it is that we have access to internet

To connect

But not able to meet,

to get together and greet

How ironic, it is indeed

That the air is cleaner, purer

But cannot inhale it to our desire

For fear of what’s luring

How ironic that the world is more precautious

Health is the main point of focus,

But must avoid physical contact.

The world claims “we’re all in this together”

But we are all distant and separated by closed boarders

How ironic it is that we can acquire new skills

But still feels shallow inside

How we learn the advantages of isolation

But feels the need for interaction

How sudden it was that from intimacy—

Maintaining that six feet

Is considered the normalcy

Ironic that we crave closeness but fears for it

How ironic that the planet is somewhat healing

Then a whole lot of people are dying

How devastatingly the economies are decreasing

And a lot are starving

How flat lines and arrows

indicate life and deaths

and are rising rapidly

and how digits simply equate to souls

There are deaths but there are no funerals

Birthdays but there are no visitors

Events but there are no partakers

And the holidays that feels wrong to rejoice

A lot of missed moments

A lot of missed people

We have a lot of time but couldn’t seem to relish it

The irony.