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Bubonic

Out, out, damn flea!

It spreads faster than the plague
In medieval times
It’s the flea aboard the rat
Bearing your demise

You see those around you fall
Perhaps you will be next?
How can you protect yourself
From this horridness?

Shall you avoid all contact?
Stay away from friends?
Never trust an embrace ?
Never hold a hand?

Live a life so sanitized
Insanity prevails?
But this is not the answer
To craft a private jail

The flea of which I’m speaking
Carries no disease
At least not of the classic type
Of corporeal malady

This flea bears not illness
But rather, an ill will
Promulgating unkind words 
Not questioning their truth

A flea that feeds on joy
Derived from others’ pain
It gains its strength from nasty tales
Repeated yet again

Intelligence, compassion
Exterminates this flea
Not mindless repetition 
Of malice spread with glee

So stop and think a moment
Speak not or else speak well 
The person you are sparing
Could one day be yourself.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2015 - 2017 by Talia Russell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical means without written permission of the author.

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