Cigarette smoke is flowing and dancing,
like a dancer who I used to be.
Cigarette ashes are falling onto the ground, like blood from my wrists was yesterday.
Cigarette flame is shining and flickering,
like candles are on my grave.
YOU ARE READING
when pain takes over your life
PoetryMassive TW here. I wrote those poems when I was at my lowest. When the depression was killing me.
