My body breathes the air for me if I
just let it through,
But sometimes I don't want to.
I rush or wait to take my fill.
I choose choosing my breaths as a
skill,
For politicians will come for my
muzzle,
My stock, my barrel, my breach,
Right before the other set comes for my
speech,
My assembly, my protest, my press.
It'll be years 'til they come for my
breath.
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