Nothing Good Can Come of Smoking (2)

So I'll say it again if you'll say it three times fast Nothing good can come of smoking The ever-decreasing lung capacity The scratching claws that rake out the slender tones of my singing voice The endless piles of pollution And burning cinders And the time I burned my friend. That was embarrassing. I didn’t even know how to smoke proper. Like I said, nothing good will come of smoking. Especially the looks from fathers of young children walking eagerly home from work And the ads in the paper that say “baby sitter wanted! Female non-smoker preferred!” Can’t we all just chew some gum? No matter how hard I try I can’t get the smell off my fingers— it's always just the fingers!-- The appendages I use for it all— Well, for writing at least Which in the absence of abandoned family and health Has become my everything I’m not addicted I can stop when I want That what everybody says, “They all say” But not me, I’ll be different, it’ll take more than febreeze to erase the odor But it’ll die out soon enough With my pride Nothing good can come of smoking I’ve tried it Decided it wasn’t worth it So I stopped it And in the end, hope to feel all the better for it But maybe just one more cigarette and it’ll all be over so I won’t have to think about this anymore…