Hello in volcano
The ointment on my lip
Tastes bitter
My mouth’s torn open by the disease
I cannot move, I cannot differ
With the ones who offer me relief
My mother brings me flowers
They are the ones I never liked
My sister stares and quivers
As she tries some more to hide
I’d let her hide beneath my bed
But she wouldn’t be satisfied with that
I lay here and let go some more
I taste the ointment on the sore
