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.