I beg for air

Take a deep breath and choke out an exhale

My heart pounds, slow and heavy

I can't hold up my head 

Eyelids droop

Extremities are numb

My throat closes and the stomach content rushes upwards

Pedal to the metal

These are the fakes. We are the realities.
Sun on her head and silly thoughts of sadness.
Run while you still can. Dreams fade all too soon.
Freckles on her nose and piety in her countenance.
Her laugh is shocking, erasing the impression of saintliness.