I thrive in your ignorance, crude callowness, bloom ‘n blossom, rise ‘n shine.
You still decline to align, consign, combine ‘n confine; the blame is not all mine.
Someday, not any time soon, I’ll be an old man, defeated ‘n dejected, gloating in the conquests of the past,
Frail, weakened yet alive, mature, mutated ‘n wise, sated ‘n quenched, formidable ’n fearsome yet surpassed,
I wrote this poem for a prompt-based contest by the Asian Literary society. The prompt was to weave a verse around ‘pandemic.’ You can read the whole verse here: