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The inventor, I thank.
by Sam Roberts
A neat dip on my lip, a furrow, where you sit.
smoke travels along my brook
Down and out, deaths on a hook!
And I couldnt be happier
And although this seems strange to state
My irony of merit to deaths trait
If it wasnt for Malboros white sticks and a vision so clear
My anguish and cynicism would fail to disappear
So I am not thanking life, pessimistic I still am
I thank the inventor
For his wonderful plan
Everyones addicted to something
And I couldnt be happier.
11/04/2003 Author's Note: Smoking is a wonderful thing, for pessimistic people anyway...
Posted on 11/04/2003
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Lauren Singer on 11/12/03 at 01:26 AM this is just great. i can so understand this, even though i try to keep my habit from being ... well habitual, when you need one, you definitely need one... from the chick who chain smoked way too much last night on a bad day. awesome read! :) |
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