April 9, 2012
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The grey smoke chokes me.
It strips me of my oxygen leaving me helpless.
If they could only see,
that their lungs as well as mine are a mess.
I walk into the cloud
and I hold my breath.
I whisper not a sound
about the more than certain probability of death.
I try to run away from it, fan it away, or go to another room
but nothing can keep it away,
it is always seeping towards my doom.
It has already crippled my body and heart.
My lungs are damaged.
And it’s not like I can buy another pair of lungs at Wal-Mart.
The dry, breath depriving smoke comes from your mouth, every pore.
It is invading your very being
and you keep on wanting more.

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