Fumes

I saw the smoke curling in the air.

I inhaled, then exhaled.

The cigarette on the tip of my lips.

Bare.

I saw my life pass by in those fumes.

Just like the ash, my heart in pieces fell in different places.

It was ironic, plenty of houses to live in….

But no home to call my own.

Hoping they’d call, I would wait patiently by the phone.

The first smoke, it hurt my insides,

Brought tears to my eyes.

But was it really the cigarette, or were it all lies?

The empty school, the empty cafeteria,

I sat there thinking, so this is what my insides feels like,

So alone, a picture of misery and unseen tragedies.

So many fears, speaking out was termed a felony.

But I wasn’t really all by myself, right.

I had made a new friend which spoke to me in fumes.

I saw someone putting up a poster of smoking kills.

I chuckled, than I sighed.

What could a mere cigarette do to me that people in my life hadn't already done?

Judging eyes, dead souls. 

I was immune.

I had someone now,

My friend who spoke in fumes... 

-SCZ