CC Image Curtesy of Rod Waddington

A little mosquito, landing on a arm

Killed easily

Kills easily

I grimace, squash it

And grimace more at the blood

(just one bite)

And then there’s the fever

Shaking like a weather vane in a storm

Chills in the middle of summer

Tired despite having slept enough

Weak as a newborn doe

Curled up on the bed

(mother help I don’t feel well)

Time passes

Skin is yellowed

Food doesn’t stay in

Body weakens

Organs fail

(save me)

(every symptom piling up)

(just another statistic)

(I’m going to die, aren’t I)

Malaria, humanity knows how to defeat you, but I can’t

A little child, that’s all I am

Let it stop hurting

And please, Death, wait a little longer

Really, I’m just a little child

I want to see the world

And I’m scared

​

(Please...)