Slow Death

I’m slowly killing my body

One more.

I pull one out
The body long and white
Smells fresh, smells new, smells good
In my hand—a yellow piece of plastic that makes fire
Light. Inhale. Exhale. Breath.

How did I get here?

It’s a slow death
Non painful, except for the occasional burn
Toxins leaking into my body, I go in ease.
Inhale. Exhale. Breath.

Why do I do this?

I hide away from the world,
Even though they care not what I do
I’m afraid. Afraid of who may find out.
Maybe I’m even afraid of the thought
Of God losing His love for me
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Breath.

Where to go; what to do?

The last glowing ash falls to my feet.
That one done, I’m one step closer
To my slow death.
I wish for another but fight against the thoughts
Trembling now, I walk…then run to the woods

One more…?

Notes
The person in this will remain anonymous, but as this person takes up her/his pack and “light er’ up” as this person puts it, I cringe with disappointment. My eyes become glazed with sadness. My heart grieves. My nose wrinkles with the smokey thought. I know one day this person will let go of the monsters that are holding onto his/her hand.
To those who feel like they can never quit, you can! It’s not easy, but I promise you, you’re life is worth it. Every minute you you gain will be one step towards a better life!

Picture from:
http://www.freedomworks.org/content/nycs-ridiculously-high-cigarette-tax-cant-be-ignored-after-eric-garners-death

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Author: Angellus1325

I'm a little weird. I'm sad I didn't get to take advantage of being a kid in the 90's. But I'm a big believer in Jesus.

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