The magic trapped inside a cylinder,
A piece of paper entrapping nothing but a bit of nicotine and tobacco,
A piece of unholy medicine, a piece of crap,
That helps to rid of many trappings, that which helps to let go
Of the ****** oxygen trapped in the lungs,
the air inside circling over and over again,
all the sorrows of the heart ,the weight of guilt, the pain of loneliness,
the longing for companionship, the deep seeded wish to be truly free,
the duality of good and bad, the conflict to do or not to do,
the feeling of being trapped in someone else’s dream,
the angst to live, by what others want to be,
the falsehood of all that is around,
the desire to change the world, to create a change ,
to rid the world of all falsities it believes to be true,
the false friendships, the petty enmities
all the desires and sorrows, all the ambitions and goals,
the desire to live and achieve greatness,
the feeling to be remembered long after death,
All of these this and thats,
Went out with the puff of grey smoke that came out of the tip of a cigarette,
Finally the cigarette itself was non more,
Reduced to a pile of ashes with leaving nothing but an yellow stub,
As evidence of its existence.
Reminding that all that remains of us after we leave,
is nothing more than a pile of  bones and dust.
A horrible little thing that consumes itself,
Leaving nothing in its wake other than smoke and ashes.