Words from the Lungs of an Asthmatic

I can breathe. I haven’t forgotten how to breathe yet.
I haven’t forgotten to live. My heart is still beating, my brain is still thinking. At least I know that I’m alive.
But they don’t know that I am. Who are they?
Thoughts keep on ringing this mind,
building its own fort inside my head.
Maybe there are little beings whispering something in my brain which this brain whispers this something in my ear.
“You are alive.” Its constant reminder that my lungs are
still functioning, air still able to pass through this system.
Air still supplies air to those little creatures and the cycle of whispering repeats again.
But they don’t know I’m alive. Or maybe they do, they do.
Who are they? Them.
These whisperers, I think they’re called emotions or maybe I’m wrong.
They whisper something to my brain, and other thing to the fragile heart, then these two system clashes affecting my lungs making me unable to breathe.
“You are still alive,” it whispers again.
I thought these would be the last words coming out from the lungs of an asthmatic.

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