Aids

No help at hand,

No help at all.

The name mocks a continent.

Riding mortal sex,

Aids gallops around Africa,

Round and round,

Village by village,

Town by town,

Round and round,

Leaving orphans as it goes,

The innocents of Aids,

For help will come to very few,

And soon they also will lie down,

And sleep in the earth they hardly knew.

Poem every Monday