They describe it as artistic;
Smoke curling into the air,
wisps broken and carried away on the wind.
Tendrils
reaching, grabbing, ensnaring.

Don't be fooled by their promises,
Their broken lips
whispering dreams of praise
as if it makes you a god
to follow in their dirty footsteps.

It hurts others
More than it does you.
So who gave you the right?

This disease-ridden addiction
plagues upon
unfailing, unfathomable congregations of weak
penniless creatures
bent on destroying themselves.

To watch your teeth rot,
your lungs turn black
cancer taking root
as you slowly
shrivel
away
like so many a cigarette stamped out in the dust.

It is not beautiful
to smoke.