The Cigarette Is Blazing Poem by Jorge Alexandre

The cigarette is blazing
The ash burning, burning, to the ground,
It fills my heart; my soul,
I rip what I plough.

The flowers; all dead,
Oh you were the only one alive,
I plucked you from the garden,
And I had you; I made you mine.

The sweet fire burns my mouth,
A noticeable warmth when I breath in,
And though thy tar and nicotine; kill,
I still have my cigarette at hand;


And it be blazing still.