Each puff infuses poison and serenity.
Clouds drift off, combine with the air.
Slowly burring away years off time.
Disgust or desire,
The distant smell of the once infamous beauty.
The cancer stick, the deathly hits.
The denial of mortality caused from deadly attraction.
A single hit they say will dig you a grave,
But what’s the point if you will get one anyways.
A torch of liberty.
For the ones who find peace,
Within each calming puff.