Code word: Pandemic

It's an odd sort of pandemic. an epic pandemic
One where people are past feeling, one where their emotional range is the size of a teaspoon and that small teaspoon is only their flavor. exception.
Self-centeredness seems to be the subject of today. perfection the other.
Everyone is searching for something, someone. When one is presented it seems to be their perfect most desired flavor for a while, but that is precisely when the disease unfolds: symptoms: your head is no longer regular size, rather it's transformed into something like a rose-tinted machine but it just doesn't seem to fit right, it's forced on and squeezes your eyes until all slowly turns black and all you can see is a picture of you because that is all you remember. soon it's all you want to remember. When rose-tinted glasses were the true style, life was simple, 2 weeks and you would know, 50 years past there are only trails of petals falling from your spectacles, no regrets, what you feel is real. they accepted. Today they fall but naturally is not the style. The pandemic has seized millions, not just here but across the world. More is expected more is demanded, unnatural and plastic. prim and sheen. sadly there is little hope of seeing in when the blindness prevails, there are things that only meet the eye yet even more that meets the soul. who knows what could have been.