I was once a child to you
now
false seeds woven into my heart;
you treat me as you would a withering flower.
The cuticles that surround mine.
I lay unforgiven in your eyes
to actions not mine.
At the sight of me,
I die into the image
of a pair of lungs
incapable of serving it's purpose.
I wish you knew me as the creature I truly am;
The crawling servant.
The lungs who not only take in the air you breathe,
but sing with words bathed in honesty.