19 - Asthma

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I hold my body with my arms,

And crouch down on the ground,

Please don't let me be harmed,

By air that can't be found.

Oh what kind of torture is this?

I'm breathing harder than ever,

But my lungs always seem to miss,

The air altogether.

The wheezing filters through my head,

Till I can hear no more,

My heart fills with more dread,

Than its possible to store.

Somehow I stay frozen,

Somehow I'm still alive,

Why have I been chosen,

To have this in my life?

Bronchi spasms leave me motionless,

My lungs are quivering fast,

Any air is now worthless,

My body will not last.


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