Unknown Source


Sparks freckle the air,
scorching the ground;
wandering ash-
tickles the purest of lungs
and begins to fill them
while scratches form along the throat,
causing screams to go unspoken;
but silence burns louder than the pain
and the rosy organs turn black
though filled, never more empty.

Search for substance,
for remedy,
to repair the damage
but it is too late;
tar flows through the veins-
and though unwanted, it remains;
now the oxygen
to the brain.

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