Mortals’ in Immortal!
A child so lonely, sitting underneath the bed;
Howling in pain, being a part of a cruel clan,
Gulping the vignettes of the life so dark,
Till the veil of the night will last,
Drifting towards the door, achingly;
As the sound mutters deafly,
Clenched the courage in the heart of cotton,
Opened the door, and stood frozen.
Receiving a note, standing at the door,
From a man in a medical cloth;
Beseeching for the sheeny sun,
Reading the note with a droopy gut,
As he bides for a blithe call,
Not knowing the curtain will fall,
Like the setting sun meets the west,
The pandemic has glutted his rest.
A note of bleak truth, as his father is dead,
Counted with thousands of mortals,
To be buried in the Holy Immortal
Still, Bolted at the house, being blind,
As he realizes the curse of human deeds,
Made him cry for his bread and breeds.
The chicken so roasted had died,
And we shamelessly flew, under its silent cry,
Time whirled the ages to slap us with the best,
Now, presented to us with the pandemic gift of unrest,
As the hidden curse still prevails on the world portal,
Till the mortal will float in Immortal.