Plague

I grew up as a peasant

In 17th century France

I'm not as diseased

Or quite as weak

As you think I am

Damp itchy skin

Putting oil in my lamp

Sneaking out to find

My old man

My ribs feel tough

and I feel rough

I think I have the plague

I feel worse and worse everyday

I think I have the plague

My feet are swollen

Fingers numb

Sweaty skin

Heavy lungs

My arms ache

And I feel the weight

Of my womanhood

Of my fate

My ribs feel tough

and I feel rough

I think I have the plague

I feel worse and worse everyday

I think I have the plague

How much more pain can I take

I think I have the plague

How much more until I break

I think I have the plague

I

Think

I

Have

The

Plague...