The smallest of boys smell like cigarettes.
Burning holes,
Dying lungs,
Cigarette butts,
And falling ashes.
Pushed.
Held.
Beaten.
Healed.
That's how the smallest of boys feel.
"Hey bud,
You got a light?"
"Nah Man,
I'm done with that stuff.
I'd rather live
Than die from this crap."
The smallest of boys smell like cigarettes.
To escape their hate,
Boredom,
Rage.
They'd rather be trapped in smoke?
In burning holes,
Dying lungs,
Cigarette butts,
And falling ashes?
Don't just leave them to their misery.
Save them from their blindness of smoke.
From their young and earnest needs.
The smallest of boys smell like cigarettes.
