seeping from lit cancer sticks
smoke pours from where the flame licked tobacco
rolled up in bleached paper
the butt end dyed orange
filtering what is believed to be
poisons
of every kind
the killers of cells
blackening lungs
we
not listening to the constant banter of adults
scolding us for inhaling
a signal of surrender
YOU ARE READING
breathe {poetry}--
Poetrythis is not poetry it is emotion in its purest form; words
