I take a seat by the window, the table is covered with the dinner set,
As I strike up the last match from the box to light my cigarette.
It exhales a puff of smoke, the ash glows red with a slender flame,
While outside the rain gently runs its fingers over the windowpane.
I wrap my mouth around the filter and inhale a draw of sweet nicotine,
The smoke floods my veins momentarily, making me shake in my seat.
I take another draw, my mouth grows dry and I’m too stressed to speak,
So I watch the ash fall into the tray, as I think about my memories.

It was a time back in ’85, damn, those were shady times,
Every night my house would be full of drugs and a baby’s cries.
They were my little brother’s, his situation left me deadened,
Cause he spent the most important years of his life being neglected.
Honestly, If I wasn’t around, my dad would’ve slaughtered him,
And I remember staying by his bed to protect him from my father’s fists.
He was only 3 years old! He was just too young to face the music,
He was too young to understand his face full of fresh bruises.
But if that wasn’t enough, you made my life a living hell too,
Always making me scream in pain, or the time that you…
…Burst into my room with a packet of cigarettes in your hand,
Screaming at me, “Take these now, you better do it, I’m your dad”.
Then you pushed me to the floor, pressing your boot in my back,
And began punching me till I smoked every last one in the pack.
It was you who made me an addict, and you thought it was banter,
But I hope your happy now at the fact that you gave me cancer.
I knew you had it too, I heard your hocking cough at night,
But that was no excuse to give me the disease and ruin my life.

Look father, I tried to love you, having a happy home was my only wish,
And I even tried to forgive and forget all of those things you did.
But I could never forget all the hatred you contained in your words,
Cause I swear on my life I gave you my all, yet I got none in return.
The only thing you gave me was an addiction that makes my skin crawl,
A habit I can’t kick, a habit that brings me closer to death with each draw.
And even though I’m glad you died from that cancer in your chest,
I don’t want to live my life like yours or even follow in your footsteps…



So I quit.

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