The fever raged like a wildfire through her body
Eating up everything in sight
It burned, the embers searing her being
Finally releasing the ashes on her frail skin
Her skin was hot, so hot.
She was too weak to move
Her limbs unable to respond to the simple order by her mind.
“Move!” They were told
But all they could do was hang limply by her side
They could easily have belonged to someone else.
Her mind which gave the orders already facing its own crisis
The real had become the unreal
The known had become the unknown
Her mind played tricks on her
As the virus marched unopposed through her brain.
Her body showed the result of the assault
Her weight no more than a ten year old’s
Her skin as pale as the mid-day sun
Her legs spindly as spaghetti sticks
A bag of bones, she looked, pleading at me.Follow me