Eggbound
I keep breathing normal, but I can tell air is stuck.
No matter how I hunch or push to strain it out,
there's a quick rush to spike the pain, no triumph to expel It this time, not like before.
With no doubt he'll see how much it hurts me,
crouched and ruffled on the floor.
He expects such constant churning out,
peak flow without a pause.
But today I just can't do it.
It might be an age thing that slows my quota,
rages and blocks my vent.
Or I may need a gentler hand than he can give.
It breaks inside me now,
I won't live.
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