A knock upon my chambered door, first tis be all, goes on ignored,
Too feeble I, coldness instills, lain I once again e'er filled with chills,
Restores a knock that goes on toiling, thrice have it be its own spoiling,
Cannot say I, read of the news, so neglect must be, of knocked sound blues,
Soars abound knocked chambered door, roars I cannot, for I am sore,
Then suddenly, a stillness had come, my chambered door, went silently numb,
So I, read on, of coronavirus, tis recent so hence be it naught an antivirus,
Kept abreast of things albeit online, inducement, the spread, signs, all be I fine,
Cawing gawked my chambered window, peering through midst raised crescendo,
A black raven tis annoyance it is the calling, disturbance afoot, perpetual cawing,
A chapter be read, of the ailment, fear breeds in verses, amongst confinement,
As a bird scrutinize, belittles my illness, with a litany of awk, pesty nuisances,
Fatal passages beset home and town, beat I the averages, best all around,
A door and window, be I immune, alas, a dreaded raven befalls its lampoon.
(Internal Rhyming)