HIV comes in the morning,
As mother prepares some future’s concoction,
Today’s sub for the once sweet-some break fast.
No boiled vapour this light,
All the tears will feel the jags
Perhaps ‘Mr. Death’ will be sufficed.
Boil the tears,
Fill the bowels,
Perhaps, tomorrow, we will be free
To cry and cuddle,
Embrace the truth,
Of this silent misery