Created to destroy us there deadly poisonous, you pay for it, you pray to quit, but truth be told, you cant kick it. ******* these cancer sticks, that are sold through out our nation. Purposely designed for the decline of our population.  

I'm just another victim with the sickness, no stoping now addiction. This poem is called addicted, for those who smoke the death sticks, of tobacco but try to quit.

Its a habit you cant lift, and even packaged like a gift. Just try one have it, light another with matches. I started smoking to fit in, then it developed into a habit. These demons in a pack of 20, constrict my lungs and turn them black. I know the risks yet still I smoke, why must I buy this pack.