My lungs hurt from holding my Breath. I watch as our world Becomes fiery and ashen. Death's stench fills the air, Making it even harder to breath. I hold my breath, As tears flow down My cheeks. If only I were a child still, Then everything would be OK. I would still have the innocence Of not knowing. I turn off the TV, And begin to read the News paper. Things here aren't much Better. My heart begins to ache For a childless mother. When will I breath again? When will I breath without The shutter of tears? My lungs hurt, as I stand Here waiting to Exhale.