A Lonely Little Plague
The Black Death was a sad little boy.
He'd no friends, no family, or neighbours.
He met with rats, they liked him lots, their hearts sure did belabour.
They spread the word, and soon they carried,
A little boy named Black Death.
The rats they called him B.D and told the people of his name.
The people were frightened and soon grew sick,
Of a little boy named Black Death.
B.D, wherever he went, only scared the men and women.
He scared them so much, their lights soon disappeared, and their families, and so did their friends.
Black Death cried and cried, with only one rat left and no one to be seen.
"Where have all the people gone? And the rats named Jeff and Jeanne?"
Black Death soon was depressed and lying on the ground.
"How can I even make a friend with no one to be found?"
His last little friend, a rat, named May hugged him tight, tighter and tightest.
Then she took her very last, last breath and fell into the white snow.
"My only friend I loved you so I wish I could forego, your death just for a very second to let you know."
The little boy named the Black Death had no friends, no family, or town.
"Goodbye for now world I will go since no one loves me I'll drown."
The people left had cured the Black Death and prevented it from continuing to spread.
Mankind was saved, and rats were too, even though they lost a friend. At least they had their parasites to talk to and append.
The sad tale of a boy and some rats who started an epidemic in the Middle ages.
👁 4💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.