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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Toxicity that serene, Harm lives between The pleasurable sensations… Death is unseen, Out of all the atoms of nicotine, He was the sum, Life to him was a mystery… His misery was endless, When sadness came to him, He always went to, “it,” Powerless he would be, Controlled by its power, Allaying his soul tenderly, Like the tenderness of soft music, He sat there breathing in what he called, “My satisfaction,” The only thing that made him happy, The more the “satisfaction,” The more the harm, He knew its effect on him, But the emptiness of his life Made him ignore, He always would take a deep breath and say, “A puff or two,” Trying to make himself feel better, But as soon as he starts, It just never comes to an end, A cigarette between his two fingers, This was his life, The same picture that is continuously repeated, The picture that eyes always see, Words would always tell him to stop, But to him, words were meaningless, Hopelessness filled his life, Triggering all the mess, Addicted to the source of suffocation, And to the heart-aching inhalation of air, All this bitterness tasted sweet to him, And all this harm was his cure, “A puff or two,” It always repeated itself, Whispering into his ear, Pushing him to start, Endless nights he spent, Disappearing into the smoke surrounding him, As the circulation of toxic air, Swam in and out of his body, Days that passed, Led to disasters, Loud coughs of pain echoed around him, But the weakness in him was too powerful, Surrounded by thick smoke, He coughed, he almost choked, He breathlessly took a deep breath, Trying to release the words he wants to whisper… “Another puff or two,” he said, “Just a puff or two.”
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