I feel like a cigarette.
My soul is being ****** out,
I’m being used just for what they want from me.
My precious nicotine.
They're setting me on fire,
Flicking me between their fingers.
Pressing me against their lips,
Giving me meaningless kisses.
I am not unique, I am not special.
I come in packs of 20,
And handed out  to whoever asks.
And when they are done with me,
They step on me,
Press me hard into cold ashtrays,
Thrown out windows
To lie motionless on the side of the road
Surrounded by those just like me.
A useless shell of what I once was.