You became an addiction , a attachment , a drug ,  a seduction . . . Every time  i  use a drug , it bring back the old memory of that angel stuck in bones . .  My heart has no limit but my lungs do  . . . . . As the drugs hit me hard , breathing became  a war with my own organs . They  beg me to stop this thing . But for those sweet memories i could burn myself to death .

Nobody ever understood . . . No one catches  my tears at night . . . Nobody holds me and say ”everything will be alright” . . .  I was alone as the moon . . .

                                                                                              That’s the time when i met those smokes and  small round things. . .  Which melt my pain and offered me a comfort sleep . . . She become my physical necessity. . .



Love is always been a strange black magic.My vision  is getting blur from the smoke forming from my mouth , it is giving  me pleasure and  taking my life slowly with it , every night it warms my soul , i inhale this thing that kills me to make me feel  more alive than before  , to make me forget everything for a movement .Each puffs holds screams from my head , It gave me strength to fight my own fears .You become the reason for my drugs . As the nicotine began to effect my cells in the body , the whole world become an hallucination . Every wound make me who i am and every scares will make myown kingdom . Those who commit suicide don’t want to end their lives all they want to do is  end their pain . And cigarette are the classy way to commit suicide . .