Aspirations
Aspiration.
Such a hopeful word;
A harbinger of bright futures:
Determination at its best--
A breath of fresh air
Until you're choking on it.
Each bite problematic.
Will it go down,
or will you slowly suffocate
one piece of food at a time?
Textures become the enemy.
Will this one go down?
Will it stick?
Can you cough it out?
Or is it packing, piece by piece
bite by bite--
Slowly, filling your lungs
in a wordless body that can't fight back?
Suffocation is an ugly death,
not something to aspire too.
So why give those hacking coughs
such a glowing name?
Breathe it all in,
but the air it's not sweet.
Such wonderful potential you have,
respiration of breakfast, lunch and dinner, even saliva;
layer by layer becomes a ticking bomb.
Who will be feeding you
when it becomes too much;
when respiration is no longer your aspiration,
And Aspiration is cause of death?
Copyright © Jaycee Cervenka | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment