not enough air

going through life persecuted and aboandoned always stuck somehow stranded wake up each day fighting for something something anything everything striving for the air to fill my lungs with comforting pain of a deep inhale constant feeling in my throat not able to breathe, shallow breaths slow always warm just enough to keep surviving yet never enough to take a full breath my heart screams for more, but not enough air not enough to be heard, so in silence i stay quietly accepting the lack of air and pretending pretending to be complacent with these shallow breaths how many more? how many do i have left? a million shallow breaths? one last deep breath? why do I yearn for the latter? does it all start to blend ? does the air get crisper? do I keep breathing to mold into this acceptance accept the air only gets harder to inhale choosing to not dream of crisper air mold into camplacancy and accept the million shallow breaths as law layed dreaming to breath easier to rest.