Quitting the puffer in my dreams,
but when I try my body screams.
Telling me to get some nicotine.
I have a blind spot so it seems.
If I cut my finger I don't wine.
If I kick my toe that's also fine.
But if my body tells me nicotine o',
straight back to it I will go.
I used to smoke the tobacco.
My doctor said I nearly died, so
now I question why o' why o'
must I live without my puffer, yo?
My puffer is my pocket treasure.
It really gives me so much pleasure!
Nothing else comes near and so,
it's back to puffing on I go.
i was just going to say why not a patch or a gum? but it is a wonderful poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Any addiction is bad for life. Of all, nicotine is the worst. It is worth anything, everything to come out of it. So, please try, try and try earnestly
Thank you! I still have coffee and poetry : )