Dear ******,
I have a comparison for you,
You are like a cigarette,
Tempting, poisoning,
But extremely addictive.

You are the cigarette that takes the lungs of young innocent girls,
Revealing yourself from a packet consisting pictures of revolting warnings,
But still, those young inquisitive girls take you,
Thinking, 'it won't hurt just to try a little bit'.

******* in firmly at the filter,
Until the burning dry substance begins to go transform,
Into a thick grey cloud it turns,
Dangerously slithering down her fresh flourishing windpipes.

At first, it feels a little foreign,
But after each cigarette she devours,
She becomes more obsessed, needy,
And damaged.

Soon, the tobacco is the red blood running through her veins,
And like any other of your soiled victims,
She desperately tries to call for help,
And she really wants to stop.

But you drag her...
You drag her further,
And further into the blinding smoke until she can't breath no more,
She can't breath the fresh, virginal air that those beautiful, god-made trees release every, single, day.

And when she's lying in those pure white sheets,
Sunlight illuminating through the crystal clear windows,
The trees singing their last beauteous melody for her youthful soul,
You are inside that wicked packet, waiting for your next victim.