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Filters in the Street This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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A cigarette, few regrets, and
A quiet night staring,
At you.
Brown inside, breathing cyanide.

Five white sticks, and I’m
Okay, we’re missing the point,
Habitual, cynical, a real muddied coin.
Fraser a smile, displayed happy when we’re not.

Smoking heavy I thought it so simple,
Pack-a-day, and you’re getting me dizzy.
Stuck you on my arm, watched the skin crimple,
Coughing out fluid filled lungs, with mucus that fizzy.

Tar-filled lungs, like Jonah in the ocean,
Suffocating me, blue, and I’m choking,
Physical injury from stone throwing,
Can’t trudge back, pain showing.

Ripped filters, cutting with glass
This one’s my last, escaping my caste
Can’t breathe you no more,
Hurt me worst, as I’m forced out the door.

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HereSheIsThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Apr. 13 at 4:55 pm
That's a really raw, creative and potent way to talk about addiction to smoking and it's dangers. Good job!
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