Fine Lungs

You’re chewing cake, Mama’s cake
But you’re chewing it too fast
Because you harbor the belief that this cake might be your last
And it was not about the air
You forgot about the air
You choke
There’s a sound deep in your throat
It’s an angry, ruthless cry
Why am I denied
A breath of hope and of air at the same time?

Already, it’s a long-forgotten cry
Because you’re choking
They aren’t joking
The taste of fudge-filled lungs feel greedy on your tongue
Look down
There’s the baby, on the floor
You tell him, you tell him
You tell him there’s no more
And you tell him why
And you calm him when he cries
What if he dies?
What if tomorrow he’s set to perish?
For the was nothing left to spare him
That boy’s got fine lungs
And you’ve got an ugly tongue
So you tell him
And tell me
And tell yourself, who won.

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