As The Mist Made It Clear

I tried to quit it once and for all.
"What's a fag going to do to me?"was the question in my brain.
My lungs were weak,my body was too.
I thought about it
What do i get from taking that burning puff?
Maybe satisfaction,maybe a rush.
Seeing that ball of fire nearing my lips
and coming to a halt
Like a racing car reaching its finish line.
The burning rubber leaving a track of black on the tar
the burning lips black from the encounters from the past.
"what's a fag going to do to me?"was the question in my brain.
I couldn't run,i couldn't climb the stairs
I couldn't speak till i had my steroid spray.
Still I didn't quit.
Something was motivating me to hold on to that roll of smoke.
Maybe,the wish to get that final high
Maybe,I wanted to hear the sound of my emotions
as it comes out in a sigh and it goes within no time.
Sometimes I want to live.
But,there's nothing left through which I can breathe.
Its like the tar in which the car raced
Its brittle now,about to break.
The car will not reach the finish line.
"Look,what a fag has done to me?"
Is what,I ask you and,will ask through written words alone.
As I lay dead.
I had forgotten that,there were better ways to die
and,even better reasons to live.