Smoking

This is a poem I recently found on my computer written when I was around 14 unchanged;

I hear your conversations every time

But you will never learn to whisper quiet,

So quiet that even I can’t hear your words.

The breeze can try and lose me in the air

But I will linger when you’ve cast me out,

By then I’ll be a memory and my friends

Will be destroyed for pleasure, highs and lows.

But when you’re finished with me I will still

Be with you for a time until I fade,

Into the night or be it, in the day.

You hide from older eyes that disapprove

But still you go and do it all the same.

The smell is acrid, twisted in your clothes,

And tar is seeping, pouring down your bones.

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