To a dying lung

Beneath my ribcage

Is a long lost moon

One that adds a twist to my breathe

One that holds the deep endears of my nostrils

One that is so close to my dear heart

One that has held my asthma by hand

One that quickens at the sight of my tears

One that fastens at the sight of my anger

And prolly one that is at ease through my smiles

One that is picky cautious and jealous of the airs that I take in

It winces at every puff that I take in

So, with every last smoke that I hardly have memory of,

I can feel the sharp tongs as it wails for me to stop I can feel it slip through the cracks,

it clutches and gasps for support I feel the pain through my skin I know that my outcry are far more silent than its screams

A clear end is near,

I have hurt my friend for far too long


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