Fever, Cough, Chills
Buboes on my neck,
Buboes in my underarms
Hoping that when they pop,
It'll rid me of the disease
Maybe I will live
Most likely I shall not
Mother's dead now
Brother's dead now
Father's been dead for weeks
Sister had shown no symptoms
She's one of the lucky ones
The most of us are sick
With the most icky of icks
The gruesome lumps
The black spots
Are as gross as gross can be
Don't come too close to me
Don't talk to me
Don't touch me or you'll die
The others have learned the hard way
