Dot Delta Seventeen

February 14, 2018
By acmoye BRONZE, Lutz, Florida
acmoye BRONZE, Lutz, Florida
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Sometimes I’ll take time and hold my breath,
To try and save the air I’m so often told I’m wasting
I’m told there are more deserving people in this world
The distance between breaths grows longer and longer

One day, the air will stop flowing through me
At that point, they can all be happy I am no longer stealing air
My mere lungs are tortured with short periods of death,
Apparently I'm a waste, and I didn’t want to be

Learning not to breathe was difficult,
But I grew used to it as time crawled on
Wanting to ever-improve my containment,
Never disappointing any more than I have to

When I hold my breath,
My air is held constricted in my lungs.
It is not only a problem of getting new air in,
But getting the air I can’t use out

I feel like the air, willing my lungs to leave
Willing my body to get out of this cage
Always wanting to escape, knowing I’m no good in this place
Wanting to go to the bigger world I know is out there

But as the air stays in, so do I
Trying my best not to be a waste of space
Avoiding the disappointment in his eyes
When he sees I'm still here, alive and kicking
But barely breathing.



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