The Smoker Poem by Zanny 101

I shed a tear everyday
for every part of you
that dies away

the gray smoke swirling
my senses hurling
your lungs are filling
which means more killing

the one white stick
you hold in your hands
sadly does'nt meet your
wanting demands

you think your strong?
your not strong enough
your big, your tough?

then why do you bow
to this stick of death
when it fills me with sorrow?

you promise and say,
'oh, i'll quit tomorrow'
the tears that blind me
and the sadness that binds me
does not matter whatsoever to you?



(this poem was dedicated to my mother and her addiction. hopefully she stops soon,)