Smog Poem by Jacob Biehl

Surrounded by a smog,
breathing in a dark fog.
Twisting internally,
hurting eternally.
Bleeding on the inside,
I'd rather it outside.
Nothing but a shell
& nothing to compel;
me to do right or wrong;
maybe even live at all.
Growing ever darker,
climbs getting harder.
I have no rightful place,
but there is still a mask on my face.
I march forth with haste,
Hoping for that final taste
of blood in my mouth,
swelling on my tongue,
to know the end has begun.