Gas.

Entombing fashion of the ages,
Enforcing air to be courageous,
Inflated pupils and diluted rote,
A Mollusk nature saves the throat.
 
Leathery bubbles of empty thesis,
The nation relying on toxikinesis:
That if a pin prick - formed of gasses:
Struck the grey wombs of the masses,
Their hearty spirits shall be enthralled,
But on the streets, their bodies sprawled.
 
And whilst ascending from their cadaver -
Escaping the walls of the engorged larva,
If one was to turn around and see,
Upon the streets - the fleshy debris.
They’d see no change from the looking glass:
Living life inside fear is a terrible farce!
 
Maybe it would be better to bathe them in heat,
Than to leave them as shells, traversing the street.