Cigarettes
The first time i picked up a cigarette I told you and you fought me
because you said they were wrong,
After that i steered clear of them afraid of what would happen if i touched
them again, afraid of what rage you would put over me.
You were right though they were wrong, but you were worse,
You took over many lands that i owned and stripped me clean of freedom,
you tried taking the one good thing i had that made me feel innocent,
you held me down and took the covering off my body and whispered “trust
me”,
I stopped you before you went too far and you looked through me angrily,
angry that i didn’t let you, angry that you didn’t get what you wanted.
You tried over and over to get it,
and i fought every time to never let you get it,
You put me through mental hell and physical pain and hate,
after the constant rage and abuse i finally tried leaving,
you grabbed my wrists staring through me with pits from hell for eyes, and
you followed me home.
You stalked me and made me hate myself even more,
you blamed me for your mistakes, for everything you did
you left demons under my skin,
i can’t look in a mirror anymore without seeing “worthless” written on my
forehead.
The demons live in my head now and they’re never leaving,
they are stuck there, drowning me from the inside out.
I smoke cigarettes and drink a lot now too,
hoping if you ever came back you would not come near me since cigarettes are
wrong.
Copyright © Jillian Conway | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment