He lets out a cloud of smoke,
Before sighting in thought,
They’re starring at him,
Judging…
Thinking of it as a dirty,
…filthy, health deteriorating habit,
Which leads to a
Slow and painful death.
They all curse it,
While adherence to cheat death,
With the likes of living painfully health conscious,
With the gifts modern science has given us.
He lights another cigarette,
While his central line on his neck
Becomes visible…
Ironical, isn’t it?
Those who poison mother nature the most,
Blame those who poison themselves,
And those around them,
Of course not like them.
Addiction,
Low-self worth,
Reckless masochism,
The reasons condemning him to death.
He won’t come of old age,
Not anymore…
His time,
Is running up.
Cigarettes have embarked
On their warpath…
Of a slow,
And excruciating death.
He chose his fate,
Apparently…
At least,
That’s what they say.
So what’s the point?
He doesn’t fear pain
Or death…
Nor does he think he should have to.
QuantumMediocrity 