I feel my lungs cuddling.


My lungs, my lungs
Are moist and wet

Some part dark red some parts black

It squeezes shut when tickled by dust of all sort, 
white and even brown,
 hot flames melt my lungs.

I inhale and exhale,
It burns and hurts but no I keep it in
Drag after drag of grey fog.

My lungs, my lungs
Are old and creaking,
 like the ancient wood of a loose door.

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