I loathe the self indulgent volumes of oxygen that i consume,
As though i selfishly inhale far more than my fair share of this hemisphere.
Every breath denying someone else of their last or first or just another
(I wonder how many breaths we take in a life time)
double it and add seven for that is the number of greedy mouthfuls i steal from the planet with my shallow breathing or pauses between syllables.
-by holly Boyd
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...