Confession Of A Smoker Poem by white dove

Why do I smoke? I wonder,
As I sit here puffing away
A question that every smoker asks
Some time, some day.

Do I hate myself?
No. I love me every bit
Do I like the smell then?
No. It makes me want to spit

Do I like the buzz?
No. It makes me lose control
Do I feel any happy?
No. It burns me, the devil coal

Then why do it I ask,
I sit here and wonder
Cant say for all though
For only me, I answer

With every gulp of the devil
That I willingly inhale
I wish for it to burn
All the memories stale

And want that with the smoke
That escapes the breathing pot
Escape all the memories
Of love gained, of love lost

Oh but what a fool I am to believe
It will rip that pain apart
Do I not know that the memories are
Safe, untouched in my heart?

But still I breathe again
Hoping it burns away
And the smoke that escapes me
Will take the past away...