Inhaled breaths, a fragile thread,
Air, once abundant, now hangs by a thread.
A tightrope walk on a silent line
Where every gasp feels like a steep climb.Â
Every day feels like it has a slow pace,
Yet shadows loom in this quiet space.
Each breath a struggle, a weight they must bear
As lungs tighten by chains wrapped in despair.
A fleeting glimpse of what’s to be
In fading whispers, life no longer feels free.
For death, an opportunity for release
Is not always sad, as it can offer peace.
