Cancer (C) 10-3-2010 Poem by Zahir Kijani

Can Sir Respira Tory please make his way and stand up now
Everybody in the room should offer applause for his bow
Please swiftly do us the honor of statin the facts
To the ones that may not know your situation exact

“Listen I’m your means of living as aforementioned
And when you open up to breathe I’m your door hinges
I’m what projects your linguistics through the air tunnel
But right now I have somethin more important to say
This isn’t one of those times for you to start walkin away
I want you to stay so your future remains as bright as the day
So let me switch it up
I want you all to close your eyes and picture you fifteen years from today
And picture it as if you’ve been smoking that green everyday
Smell ya breath, look at ya face do it all in the mirror
Ya teeth is gone and lips is black and to make it all clearer
You’re outta work and not from recession, but cause you wasted your life
Smokin to get high which was only me bein pierced by a knife
Your speakin, is slowed in time from the damaged I’ve faced
And all the brain cells destroyed that helped me manage your pace
But here’s an event that happens just as soon as you turn
A tragic event preventable but just if you learned
That smoking anything could tear you apart and with ease
Mary Jane is seductive which is why you’re down on your knees
So all that you believed is the reason you struggle while breathin
You blowin out the fumes but still you on the floor weezing
Steadily tryna capture ya breath while ya breath is steadily leavin
I’m tellin you now that the devil’s deceivin
Now you’re in the hospital which is a sight to make your eyes sore
Suckin on a respirator because you can’t breathe anymore
When they give you the news there’s nothin ever wonderful said
Don’t look you in the face and you know you’re only livin as dead
Thirty-two years old and only lived a quarter of life
Starin at the grey walls layin while you struggle sleepin at night
They pull the plug on you because your life is at the end of its span
And you can’t pay for the cure like the superiors can
Sir Respira Tory will never let you make me the victim
Of losin to the soul I try to maintain alive all through my system
Next time you feelin stressed and search for the cloudy sung answer
Just think of me the one that has to suffer chronic lung cancer