Asthma.

Through the trees,
and the leaves
he only heaves
longing to breath.
 
Shallow pools cannot
fuel the fool.
He uses others
as his tools.
 
The water flows,
and the wind blows.
When he falls to his knees,
dying to bleed.

The shadows come,
there’s no where to run.
Staring at the sun,
waiting for death to come.