In Fear of Infection

Bacterial growth, a fungus on her skin.
Inside her veins run chemicals that flow from the syringe.
Though they will do nothing, just prolong her suffering.
The virus is inside her, an infection of dead cells.
Mutation in her heart, deformation and murmurs.
The virus is inside. Growing.

She bleeds in isolation. An emptiness slowly digesting her life.
Her mother's fingers long to entwine with hers,
But behind glass she watches, reluctantly, in fear of infection.
Isolation rotted away at her gangrenous limbs
And her days, now numbered, seem to linger in the sweat on her palms.
The virus grew out of control, a painful disease that swallowed her soul.

Doctors found her body the next day,
Her toes, blackened from rotting flesh,
The virus had won the fight, the fatal battle inside her blood.
It had spread, it's power grew unbearable.
Eating away at her tissue, the lies under her skin grew,
Swimming through her bloodstream leaving a disease ridden path.
Inside her heart, the virus fought an easy battle.
With it's army behind it, the dead cells arose.
The flesh of her heart murmured;
Just barely beating, but with an already infected core.
There was no turning back now, death was in the air.
A foundation of lies, her mask, an infection,
The disease spread like rumours, like lice in her hair.