Mpox, once known as monkeypox's name, A virus born in nature's ancient game. Linked to the variola line of fear, A cousin of smallpox, its symptoms clear.
From animals it jumps, unseen, unknown, In rodents, primates, seeds are sown. Through fluid touch, the virus spreads its might, A rash of blisters, glowing in the light.
It starts with fever, aches that weigh you down, A headache fierce, a swollen crown. Your body aches, the lymph nodes swell, And then the rash begins to tell.
From macules flat to papules rise, Then vesicles bloom beneath the skies. Pustules grow with pain and heat, Till scabs form thick upon your feet.
Human to human, it takes its toll, In skin-to-skin, its tale is told. But with good hygiene and care it fades, As vaccine shields the world it raids.
Though mild in most, in some it's grim, A threat to health when light grows dim. But hope remains in science strong, To quell the virus, right the wrong.
