Cactus

There is a cactus growing in my lungs. It stemmed from my heart and now has branched into my whole chest. Sometimes the people in my life water it, and it grows. Other times, I flood it away with my tears. It grows even more. I've had it since I was young. Now, it's almost ripened. The cactus in my chest makes it breathe. Each time I exhale the thorns tears a new wound. I keep wondering how long it'll stay there. Will it finally rips open my ribs and I rot away or will I stop watering it? I don't know. But one thing I know is when my people and I start pouring water onto it, I could feel scratching at my throat. It makes living excruciating.