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Poem

Slowly, reluctantly released by unforgiving fingertips
out of its cold, square prison, to which it had grown so fond of,
gladly giving its deadly, masked white being
to whom ever resides anxiously above.

Finally after completing its journey to its ever obvious destination
it hangs in the faithful balance of its own fiery misuse.
It stands brittle, yet strong, prepared for its famous destiny,
which may very well possibly lead to the end of another.

Many cringe at its unholy, disgusting effect,
while others appreciate its calming remedy.
Some degrade themselves for merely a taste of the control,
while others are made into kings by its disguising abilities.

Suddenly the trumpets blow and the thunder triumphantly crashes
as the embers flare to create a mighty flame.
This flame draws nearer and nearer,
counting down the exact seconds left before chaos arrives
and another is burned down by mortal satisfactions.

They finally touch as one is burned by another,
but not without leaving its signals,
driving all other would be predators far from this murder.
And the cigarette is lit.

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