It's sleeting
And all I can do is keep on thinking
Smoke used to look so lovely
Light grey and twirling
But I took a photo of me
It was spilling out of my mouth
And it looked dark as night
I picked up my pack
And on the front
Black against white
In big letters
It read DEATH
I opened it up
My fingers chilled
And shaking
And started breaking
Each cigarette
Toss them on the ground
I start to turn away
But then I glance back
I'm weak
I pick them up
And tape them
Back together
Sometimes it reaches
It's peak
And then it dips
Back down
And I come back
Around & light
Another one up

Beauty is but a construction
               Of our mind.