Knowing You've Lost Control

December 22, 2017
By Anonymous

Everyday I am controlled,
dragged out the door by my arm,
when it’s time, it’s time,
I submit to them, longing for my fix.

Every erge is an uphill battle,
smoke, darker than tarnished charcoal,
the stench of burnt tobacco invades the air, 
inhale the smoke, exhale the stress.

But sometimes, I am the one
who can chose when it's time,
leaving the pack untouched in my pocket,
to sit unlit and undisturbed.

As if,
how would you like it if minutes felt like hours
if all you could hear was your heart beating,
as you feen for that savory fix,

Shaking like you’re about to erupt,
Watching your life slip away,
Turning your money into ash,
staring straight into your master, as you light another one?

The author's comments:

I know many people to try to quit smoking but aren't strong enough too. I wrote this so people who haven't smoked won't even start

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