Smoke

For some of us, we breathe out our souls. For me, well, I exhale my being through clouds of smoke.

Under lights in the dark, I observe these clouds and find them beautiful.

They’re massive, beautiful, enticing, and intricate.

They always swirl and dance slowly around each other as they slowly dissipate more and more.

And sadly, as I watch my soul flow up towards the sky, it loosens and eventually fades until it disappears completely.

Left looking up at a dark night sky which holds no stars, I don’t feel scared.

Instead I’m filled with feelings of familiarity and an unfortunate home in which I am used to, unlike this foreign land of hope and ease I’m currently taking part of now...

After this pause of realization I lead the poison back to my lips and feel it fill my core.

Every breath I take takes away another part of my life. And looking past reality I let it all go and relax.

My past, my feelings of weakness, and even my future. I am the one partaking in my own slow and weakening death.

And although I know that death holds no promises for me, and most likely holds nothing for me but darkness, I am eager to reach the end of my path.

I don’t exactly know why, but I do know that I am my own victim and my own cruel executor.