We Keep Looking For That Pretty Peace Endlessly.

The art of shaking hands Is no more With each others, The art of loving of Each others Disappears step-by-step, The art of helping Is no more With each others, The pretty words, which We used to communicate With each others, Have evaporated from Our daily dictionaries, The fairy tales and The lovely stories Which we used to hear From our grandparents Are no more at all, The "Thank you" which We used to utter it When anyone offers us Some kinds of help Is greatly no more, We do not know exactly To which planet we belong, What has happened to us? We have changed ourselves Absolutely from what is bad Into the worst, We frankly do not belong to Our current planet at all, We are merely figures who look only for Our painful solitude away from What we used to be, Alas! What a pity! Corona keeps occupying Our pretty planet While we all keep looking for Selfish survival away from Those whom we used to be with, If we do not fix`ourselves, It means we are going to be In the tunnel of darkness Which we have drawn to ourselves.