Burnt hopes

I puff in the last bits of cigar and feel the smoke burning my throat.
The smoke around me makes my vision blurry or maybe its just the tears welling up my eyes.
I pull out the second pack as i crush the first beneath.
A click and a puff and i let my pain release.
With every puff i exhale
I exhale a piece of my soul.
And as my throat burns sore
I feel less of my burning heart.
"Dont smoke so much. It kills" they say.
Looking down at his picture,
I realise it doesnt. It doesnt as much.
~ broken

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