Had I more confidence
I would not do so well now as I do
Hiding away from the fear of the world
While crowns are passed around by people
Who refuse to mask themselves in the new version of a masque described before
In the color of blood
And many of whom are in many other circumstances
Happy to hide under hoods

I would instead chafe at not being able to
Do some specific, certain things
That I should have done when I was younger but did not do so much
Rather than what rubs me raw now
Something for which no ground talc offers ease
But only urges on the festering cancer
Malignant within me
And other white powders would be of no avail
I sniffle enough and too much
My nose ever full of the spreading miasma
No sudden convulsion will clear
As it calls to me attention I am happy not to have

Can I get some help buying tissues?