Farewell, 2020: The Perfect Poem To Send Off The Year That Shat On Us And Made Us Hoard Toilet Paper!
2020 has been a shitty year that made us beg even for toilet paper, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic. But that wasn’t the only catastrophe we faced this year, did we? Let’s see… there were wildfires, recession, that Dalgona coffee and banana bread obsession, unexpected celebrity deaths that broke us, weight gain, over-work from home, Zoom calls that never seemed to end, lay-offs, paycuts, murder hornets, heck, even monoliths popping up that made us wonder if the aliens were coming too! Could we have imagined this is how the year would turn out on NYE 2019? Hell no!
Anyhoo, our friendship with 2020 is over. Now 2021 is my best friend. But this breakup needs to be proper, and I need my catharsis. So here’s a poem that perfectly summarises the enduring human spirit. 2020 was a shitty year. But we found our toilet paper, i.e. our silver lining, to get us through it all!
Also Read: Unpaused Review: This Pandemic Anthology Is Like A Warm Hug For All Our Touch-Deprived Souls
Farewell, 2020! You Shat On Us. But We Had Hoarded Toilet Paper!
Good riddance, 2020, you ugly little thing.
Can’t believe how enthusiastically we’d brought you in.
But all year, you’ve just made our smiles taper.
You shat on us, 2020.
Luckily, we had hoarded toilet paper.
Recession and depression, virus and wildfire
You put us right in the path of murder hornets’ ire!
You confined us to our homes, so we began drinking like Don Draper.
You shat on us, 2020.
But even our sanitisers are alcoholic, and we write ideas on toilet paper.
Paycuts, layoffs, bills, liabilities.
You even took away our friends, family and fav celebrities.
So we baked away our sorrows, travelled via old vacay photos on our desktop wallpaper.
You shat on us, huh 2020.
We’re millennials, we hoarded Instagrammable toilet paper.
Six feet apart, masked, we’re getting the normal back.
Netflix keeping us company, till our social life gets back on track.
You tried your best to fuck us up, but our survival skills are taller than that Burj Khalifa sky scraper.
You’re the imposter Among Us, 2020.
I want a divorce! Here, sign this toilet paper!