Plague Breakers

Swelling lungs are cutting me short.
This refuge is too far away.
As toxins fill my chest with gasping.
I know soon I will be crashing.
Fighting for moments yet to pass.
Alas there is only so long my strength can last.
With vision narrowing to pinpricks.
I’m determined to remain.
Even as my muscles scream that I’m already done.

Spores are liquifying all that I am.
Convulsions are exploding
My mind unravels as I thrash about.
Foam erupting from my crooked mouth.
Thought lost to terminal decay.
I hear sounds but not sure there is a reason to pray.
For end result is locked in.
These are my final moments before dying.

Waking with a fevered sweat.
Groggy as if I lost a drunken bet.
Faces staring with disbelief and astounding.
It must’ve all been a twisted dream.
Before I speak questions are fired my way.
Quickly I realise it was not a fantasy.
But somehow I’m still in the land of the living.
Is this a gift or a curse that I’ve been given?

Of the billions who have faced those spores,
I’m the only one not to go through deaths doors.
Yet tests define no reason as to why.
And so I have to watch as those who nurtured me die.
Knowing what they face each time it comes.
Be lying if I didn’t hope no one day I’ll succumb.
Even frequented a gun with my mouth.
Contemplating hastening what might be in doubt.

Particulates even fowled up the gun.
So I had little choice but to carry on.
That opportunity has led to a new role.
Helping protect those still breathing.
Seems odds aren’t as poor as one in billions.
More like one in several dead millions.
Abhorrent percentage all the same.
But these lost and confused survivors need guiding.

Six years later and billions are dead.
That airbourne plague has withdrawn.
Less than three thousand survived that disaster.
Now we are rebuilding a little more each day.
Honouring those lost to that time of terror.
Preparing for if it does ever return.
Immunity might not last forever.
But no matter what we will endeavour.