The Iron lung

Every breath I take catcalls death The air tumbles out my esophagus barely delivered My veins pumping the well dry down to the crags Our yield does not look promising I can feel the spaces dissipating Signs of life diminish as foundation gets swept beneath me The rest follows as expected and so the heart finally caves My biology has failed me The iron lung is not of my composition A foreign organ beyond nature's reach emulating in isolation The dream fades exponentially as time flees my perception Now where does that leave me? And so the iron lung runs its course I lay alone with noone to maintain me, stifled, bitter The world is gone, I am next, and this is what it's come to It's come to this