Thursday, 23 December 2010

Ode to a Smoker (rough)

It was your own tiny rebellion,
(Though you would never tell what).
You would only say it was 'private', 
That it would mean 'nothing to anyone',
Except yourself.

You treated the warnings like challenges:
The lungs: the tarred, charred hunks of meat
were just pictures of wagers
on a bet against your so called 'strength',
the paper of the fags felt like a home away from home
and you believed they warmed the coldness of your heart
(they didn't.) 

What was your rebellion?
You claimed to be uninformed, unaware
of the issues beneath the surface, 
But really you were uninhibited. 

You were free,
Free to be put in a cage.

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