Adoption

A flick of the light and the smoking starts,

a deep inhaling and the lung void is filled.

Fidgeting is evicted by the tar clouded landlord,

sole merchant of black lungs, high priest of habit;

time must be made use of; so go on and grab it!

Exhaled smoke pollutes the atmosphere,

a second draw is sucked down vacated lungs,

the chemicals ignite in red corpuscles,

sending a message to the brain,

fill them, the dear lungs, fill their hungry void,

because this way of life is real difficult to avoid.

For a third time agent orange smoke is drawn,

the gratification directed by hand to mouth.

Another exhaling continues the cycle,

until the fag is ashed down to the worried filter.

The discarded butt is now a tarred forensic,   

whatever the morals smoking slays nothing,

it’s something to do, and better than doing nothing,

What else can lay claim to reckless repeats?

 Giving up isn’t much of an option,

 Unless the smoker offers habit up for adoption,

 Or adds free postage on an Ebay auction.