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Rated: · Poetry · Death · #1331211
A poem about cigarrettes!
To my lungs I owe a debt
for smoking this cigarrette
filled with tobacco and tar
there can be no greater scar
than the one that fills my lungs.

I tell myself I'll quit
when in reality I'm ful of shit.
My grandpa taught me a lesson
on why to give up this obssession
because when it becomes to late
death becomes your only fate.
© Copyright 2007 Jack Joy (regna87 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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