Fizzling grey clouds from burning lungs
And caustic scents of crouching tumour,
Hovers the air across the streets.
Rising high from black lips and charred tongues,
Many perceive it and humour,
Till the bodies cringe in deathly fits.
Ti’s the smoky taste of slow death
It teases your mind and steals your health
The cost is too cheap for the price
And the price is too steep for the risk
Some say it is no man’s headache,
Still many hearts will bleed when one dies.
When vital organs, hale and brisk,
Are soon gnawed away by poisoned smoke.
The old and young alike are snared,
By the manacles of tobacco.
They’re all prisoners of fire.
Blood stained smoke, trickles their burning veins,
Yet they add more wood from the shed.
The signs are there, even the death call.
But there they are in the mire,
Sinking deep in their addictive pains.
Heed the call today and seek help.
Soon it’ll become a lethal Yelp.
All flesh like grass will soon wither.
Must yours be by the flame of cigar?
If the life you have is a gift,
The least you’d do is appreciate it.
Tomorrow may be late for change,
So make the choice now, to leave this cage.