It might be time for a rap…
Or a nap… errr a wrap…
Nah scratch that—
It’s time to unwrap facts they’ve been keeping in the back.
Seven years in the lab with the mask and the stats,
Watching half of the map play pretend it’s a cold and relax.
But the virus attacks where the data’s at,
Bone marrow, blood flow, brain fog, cardiac.
People laugh, say “you’re fine, just bounce back.”
Tell that to the athletes who can’t run a lap.
Tell that to the teacher who collapsed in the class,
Or the kid who forgets where the alphabet’s at.
See the narrative snap when the truth overlaps:
It ain’t just a cough and a couple of hacks.
It’s platelets stacking like a blackjack stack,
Microclots in the capillaries blocking the path.
Meanwhile grants get handed to a million symptom maps—
“Tell us how you feel” while the virus still laughs.
Questionnaires piling high in the apps,
But nobody funding how to stop the damn pathogen track.
Yeah—
Observation nation writing notes in the back,
While persistence is chilling in tissue and plaques.
We need antivirals, monoclonal attacks,
Not another pie chart with a follow-up fax.
Because the math don’t lie when the aftermath stacks:
More strokes, more clots, more cognitive cracks.
Kids with memory gaps, runners losing their max,
Whole careers derailed like a train off the tracks.
But the headlines tap dance like a Broadway act:
“Everything’s normal!”—yeah right, that’s cap.
If normal means ignoring a multi-system collapse,
Then somebody redefine what the hell normal is at.
I’m watching smart people whisper facts in the back
While the loudest voices keep the truth under wraps.
But the clock keeps ticking, yeah the timeline snaps—
Year seven already and we’re still at the map.
So it might be time for a rap…
Or a nap… errr a wrap…
Nah—
It’s time to wrap science around the attack.
Target reservoirs, track viral fragments in labs,
Sequence evolution where the genome adapts.
Fund the teams that can actually snap
The chain of persistence where the pathogen’s at.
Because people deserve more than sympathy chats,
They deserve diagnostics that actually track
Where the virus is hiding, embedded in the cracks—
Not another shrug emoji after seven damn laps.
And if you think this rap’s just a rant in a cap—
Look around at the stats that are stacked in the stacks.
Millions dealing with the aftermath,
Trying to run life with a backpack of cracks.
So yeah, it might be time for a rap…
Or a nap… errr a wrap…
But until we wrap this pandemic trap
I’ll keep stacking these rhymes like a scientific abstract.
