There's A Balloon In My Throat

There’s a balloon in my throat

Of it’s colour, I’m unsure

But it grows with each breath

Of it’s origin, I’m unsure

And deflates with each cough

Of it’s holder, I’m unsure

It aches and hurts

But I bare, for when it finally pops

I shall pull out the child on the string.

And beg for forgiveness.