Both Ends Burning

I remember the time I first held a cigarette.

Looking at that deplorable bit of paper,

Rolled with dried leaves,

I saw it was unlit.

 

Quietly on my palm, it rested,

So harmless, so innocent.

In my mind, I laughed,

At how such a poor thing 

Could have the strength enough to kill.

I kept the cigarette back,

To the case where it belonged.

Other cigarettes lay there too,

Stacked like bullets before being fired.

Then I thought to myself,

Aren’t bullets also just bits of metal?

Aren’t cigarettes also just paper and leaves?

Harmful only if we use them.

Harmful only if we empower them.

Time flew by and I reached college.

I was far from home,

And lost among halls and roll calls.

I met a friend and our acquaintance grew,

We had a lot in common too.

But he did have an abominable habit,

A bottle in hand and cigarette lit.

Time flew by and in a haze,

Pressure mounted and so did craze.

I felt drawn to the smoke of a lit cigarette.

I let my urge get the better of me.

‘Only once,’ I looked into the mirror.

A promise not to myself but to my reflection.

I lit the poor cigarette and it grew red.

It came to life, on my lungs it fed.

I took a puff, soon two then three.

Countless times since then I didn’t care see.

Time flew by just like the smoke,

But I remained its poor captive.

No day went by without a cigarette,

I was chained and could not leave,

A Chakravyuh of sorts? 

I grumbled to myself.

For where I found a way to get in,

Now I just couldn’t leave. 

Money and health

Went up in smoke,

This strange little thing 

Called a cigarette.

This is my plight - I’m stuck,

in paper, smoke and muck.

I remember the time I first held a cigarette.

Now looking at that dangerous bit of paper,

Rolled with dried leaves,

I saw that it was lit.