White blank page
Just became a blissful memory
Now scarred by the art of craving for the tar
You crushed my lungs
When yours were already burnt
You didn’’t even let me breath in a full gasp of air
Before you pushed my body back down to the floor
God had no time to fill me with light
Because you triggered the tobacco triggered you triggered
him
A constant push
When really
I’m a fat lard who needs to stop
It’s me
I probably won’t though.
What am I?
Ignorant and empty it remains. I must be my own heroine.
