It's not too unlike a smoking gun,
bringing death with the setting sun.
I don't ever smoke cigar or cigarette,
but my brain may smoke when I am upset.
Perhaps your smoking habit fills a great need,
like your habit of gnoshing smoked meat with greed.
If you cheat in the kitchen and smoke up all the rooms,
it may be better than getting too upset and causing booms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem