Filters in the Street This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

Custom User Avatar
More by this author

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 crumple,
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.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

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!
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback