How many sticks have I lit so far?

All I know is that my lungs are all but char,

Killing myself slowly,

Tampering my longevity.

What a filthy habit of mine this is,
It’s like having a taste of a hot coal’s kiss,

Burnt and ruined my palettes are,

The smoke I exhale is dark as tar.

Why do I smoke, you dare to ask,

Well in gloom I learned not to bask,

I smoke because I want to die,

You’re in for a treat if you’d ask me, “why?”

For I have demons that I’m trying to ****,

Also parts of me that tries and bend my will,

Can’t blame me for wanting to die,

I’m just to fed up always having to cry,

The tears can’t seem to wash the pain away,

It can barely keep the monsters at bay,

So if you will, let me smoke in peace,

Little by little, I taste death’s cold kiss.