Manic

Dark circles to measure time,

With videos to pass the same.

Bread and butter when in need of guilt,

in-house exercise to be rid of it.

Work to keep me sane,

social media for my 'socials' to remain.

This manic pandemic,

slowly rots away

my thoughts, hobbies, goals,

to create holes to fit itself in,

so life will mould

accept the new normal.

Dreams now remain

as the last escape

and so circles measure

seconds, minutes, hours,

for the arrival of sleep.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2021. Day 23.