As I put the nicotine packed cigarette into my mouth
I think, am I addicted?
I inhale.
I'm not addicted,
I lie to myself, as smoke pours from my chapped lips
But then why do I feel the need to smoke?
I press it to my lips
And think, If I crave it, aren’t I addicted?
I inhale
No...
Exhale.
Noo…
Inhale,
Noooo…
Exhale,
Yes.
I’ve been smoking for a while now,
A couple of months.
This pondering makes me nervous, making me perspire.
As I put the now evil-looking cig to my mouth,
I think, this makes me want to smoke more.
I tell myself I should stop,
Blowing the smoke out from my teeth,
I look at the demon again; look at what I'm doing,
Smoke more.
Then I put it out.
It’s not done.
But I put it out.

 
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