What was dust, now is fume,
thus, death could come, oh so soon,
the air does choke, all in sight,
apart from banks, full of might,
abortive judgement, what a gas!
Strangle peacetime, raise a glass -
to suffocation, proudly made,
watch inner children, mock and fade,
in illness, rub the Vicks on chest,
to try; to live; like all the rest,
but, life’s design, there’s no reprieve,
if it always; hinders, the need to breathe!