The Sickness

Air raid sirens burst my ears

As fog rolls in

Barren streets whistle in cold air

Left abandoned 

And forgotten

Shop windows gather dust

Foreclosure signs marking bankruptcy 

A ghost town 

Of past memories and neighbors 

Both are gone

In this horrible sickness

Rusty tins cans move along the ground Days of rations gone

And the future unknown 

A bag of bones lays in the corner 

This family didn't have enough 

And everything left

Empty shelves 

Left unstocked

By workers who've fallen ill

By this horrible sickness 

The sick are growing 

And the healthy are shrinking

Less doctors 

And more patients

More bodies 

Than graves 

All those mourning 

Simply cannot

Their loved ones are buried without a word For this sickness must end

We must rise above fear

A horrible, debilitating fear

For we are stronger than anything

Though this brings a new low

We will rise above

Like a phoenix

The ashes will produce beauty 

And life once more

For this sickness must end