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Life of Burning
May 22, 2009
If I was a cigarette
People would be addicted
to me
They would
want me,
crave me,
need me.
I could burn and glow,
and fill lungs
with nicotine coated
death.
I’d slowly shrink
instead of grow.
I would have as many people
passionately hate me,
as so desperately
love me.
But soon
I’ll be
forgotten.
Easily
replaced.
What’s left of my body
blowing in the wind and
thrown onto
dirty sidewalks.
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