I sit amoungst my stacks of books.
My dreams wither and fade.
And at every moment I think; Will you come back to me?

HEY CHECK OUT MY NEW POEM"MY BEAUTIFUL SUICIDE" I THINK YOU'LL LIKE IT
THNX

Before 2014, I was writing a comic with a mask-wearing supervillain named Pollution whose weapon was fumes or gas, the deadliest being sprays like Bird Flu. When Coronavirus reached UG in 2020, I started wondering if fiction is not blurry prophecy.

In a room...
Lonely...
Dark...
Scary...
No one not here to save me
No one not see that I'm standing here

People pass me by with no look...
no stare... not anything!
Am I dead???
People still talk.. People still flirt...
But no one can't see me!!!
...Am I seriously dead?...

Its crazy! its was there since the world was turning..? its still crazy!!! blurr..

Hate you mistresss.... slash your pretty face.... free me mistresss....i am always waiting for you.....free me pretty mistresss.....

When the world ends, and i am the last one standing here, my only question will be: was it worth surviving? or should i have been the first one to die?

All day long they twist my words, they are plotting to harm me.

Don't go to Australia! There's killer goldfish!
-Susan