He has been told repeatedly
He who has pustules
All over his faces, neck,
Arms and legs
Some oozing watery thing
While others covered with crust
Coughing and sneezing
And rubbing his sneezed hand
On the walls and railings pipes
Of stairs as he climbs up to get
Food and water from hostel mess
Knowing that he will get food
And water in his room
But he wasn’t accustomed to loneliness
Chicken pox usually brings
As if he's saying
Why should I suffer alone
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