A Smokers Smoke

The sickness enters your mouth and your lips wrap around the smoky filter, You light your lighter and spark the sickness than feel the jitter. You inhale the sickness and exhale your life, The smoke travels into the air and feel your life's cries. As you hold your death in your mouth, the smoke travels all around your face, Huging every corner of the masterpiece that God has embraced. It cooks your skin and burns your lungs, you know that but still do it to be proud, Be proud that once your done killing your self your troubles will go unfound. Now your head is buzzing and swimming in a cloud of smoke, Making you and teasing you to take another toke. You follow its every command and do as your told, You are a slave now of a demon that commands you all so bold.