Thy curtains so beautiful red,
"Dear Lord!" a priest once said.
He saw thy curse with his naked eye,
a sick child asked "Why shall I die?"
A room full of dying souls,
by the coffins lie six foot holes.
A disease that covered the skin,
if they were visible it would look like a sin.
It spread like butter unto toasted bread,
anyone who caught it was sure to be dead.
Tiny red bumps multiplying so fast,
as a person without them tis almost as if being an outcast.
Most children died at the dawn of each day,
only sometimes would they die in a different way.
Adults only lived a short while longer,
at this time death was the main thought to ponder.
A look of terror struck every face,
a look so frightened that you could see it clearly through lace.
There wasn't a known medicine to cure this thing,
nobody could hide from it not even a king.
Smallpox was the name of this curse,
yes it has came back but let's pray for the sake of the world it doesn't get worse.
No it wasn't as bad as the bubonic plague,
but if it were the world would cease to exist and history would...fade.
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Submission Name: Smallpox in the Renaissance
