Her straggling vulnerable breaths batter her already beat down lungs.
Thickness and noise choke her last chance for fresh air.
What’s left?
Two gradually rotting lungs attached to an already disintegrating heart—hollow at this point.
But who will care?
She is obsolete, meaningless, good for nothing.
What the anatomy books don’t say:
Keep on. Keep strong. Don’t beat yourself before they beat you.
Weakness is a state of mind.