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Jan 2019
The Smog is a thick blanket tonight,
The moon just visible through its veil
Toxic, smothering us in the dark
As we run beneath the stars

Every breath in piercing, clotting, cloying
We grit our teeth and grin as mad
We are one, we sprint
We are mad,
As we run beneath the stars

Cubicle, so tiny
A cage so confining
School, so tiring
Walls made of iron
Home, so clean
Polluted air so pristine
Hate and venom, clear oxygen
No one else can smell this fear

Outside, a breath
Noxious fumes, a little death
Fumes inhaled
Less deadly yet

And so we run.
We race and we choke
Taking life as we go
We throw off our masks,
Oxygen filtered out
Who needs to breathe?

Suffocation outside is a better kind of sting.

We run, we fly beneath the stars
Laughing, roaring
Fulfilling this ache
Inhaling the toxins,
Letting them keep us awake

We may cough and we may sputter,
But this is the pain we choose
So much better than any other

And so we run.
The non-literal suffocation of life at home, at work, and in school can be, in my mind, so much greater than the suffering one experiences when going out into the polluted streets (the "throw off our masks" line has a double meaning, one of mask as in hiding who you are elsewhere, and mask as in a mask against toxins in the air), and sometimes it’s worth it to simply let go.
Rain
Written by
Rain  F/Kyrgyzstan
(F/Kyrgyzstan)   
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