The damaged lungs we carry
Are like weights upon our back.
It feels just like this cough we have
We'll always have to hack.
The phlegm we have to get out
Seems like a constant flow.
Something we have to deal with
No matter where we go.
But still there's lots of good things,
That we can still enjoy.
And here we share the methods,
Which each of us employ.
Though each of us is different,
The numbers here are such.
That there's always someone similar
Offering a hand to clutch.