The air shakes.
From trauma? From rage? From fear?
A time existed where it could be interpreted these ways, but that time has met its end
A corpse cannot shiver from the anguish it suffered in its lifetime,
nor can it show animosity for its own desecration.
The air is dead, its life tapped and stolen by some of the very people who were sustained by it.
What once was alive, growing, and abundant to all is a cadaver in an endless rigor mortis.