One day your cigarettes will kill you
And not just one but two
To lose you is to lose a bit of me
Despite how hard it is to see
How truly I do care.
I'm bad when I have to share
Because I've always seen that cloud
Rolling over without a sound
Bracing myself for the inevitable
Which so truly could have been evitable
By just saying no all those years ago
And not signing your life off so.
I know you will die
I know it will be linked to smoke
But all I can do is sigh and not cry
After so many years, I've had enough.
YOU ARE READING
Certainty Of Midnight
Puisiemotion ɪˈməʊʃ(ə)n/ noun a strong feeling deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others. A snippet of a teenage girl's mind. Excuse the hormonal anger. I started this book when I was thirteen or fourteen. I publish, unpublish...
