Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Pall Mall Red 100's

The wicked hands of addiction
grasp you by the throat
that burns while you hold that
nasty stick of tar upon your lips.
It’s like a chain that never stops
the excuses you make to try and hide the shame of your addiction
The packs full of twenty burned down in just a one day
The coughing fits never stop while you bring another to your lips
Neither you or my uncle realise what brought him so close to death by cancer
even a child like me could see
You dragging on your cessation with every drag you take
When you keep ashing into the ashtray
you’re taking your life away 




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback