Sardines in a tin
Society’s red herring
Carbon dioxide poisoning
Where you breathe out
I in
These short, shallow, sporadic breaths
Ill -at-ease breaths of consideration
For those who live on top of us
They took our expanse
Confinement that clipped wings
They poked a hole in our growth, deflated
Robbed of height
Not just nutritional, gravitational
Force increases as distance decreases
Our centres of mass have dropped
Living too close to the ground
We belly, crawl, wriggle, grovel
To then be confronted by both vastness and height
Is to rattle the bones in our bent backs twice over
We have yet to learn to stretch and fill our lungs
