With This

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With this idea of smoking, I approach the counter, coughing and hacking, sounding like an animal by deaths door.
With this movement of my lips, I ask for a a box of cigarettes, the words coming off my tongue like waves rolling in the sea.
With this fumbling of my fingers, I open the box, preparing my self for the contract I am about to sign and have already signed a thousand fold, warranting the control of my free will.
With this adjustment of my hands, I have lit the cigarette, breathing in a toxic combination of 7,000 chemicals.
With this breath, and the one before it, and the one after, I allow those chemicals to take root in my lungs and let them fester into soon to be cancer.
With this flick of the fingers, the cigarette is gone, finished, but the damage has already been done.
With those thoughts and actions, I gave away my free will, my lungs, and I have forfeited my life. All for that one cigarette, because, "one wouldn't hurt."

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