Breathe

The simple act of drawing air

Hard to believe—it’s so unfair

That tightened grip inside my chest

Lungs that try, but beg for rest

I place my hope in poison mist

Breathe in deep and don’t resist

Trade the lack of air for shaking

Give in and feel my body quaking

Sit down and rest they all will say

And I just hope it goes away

All are patient—all but me

I hate this weakness, can’t you see?

So I sit still until I fidget

Too much to do, watch clockwork digits

Feeling helpless, useless, dead

This is the part I always dread.