The flame flies high,
High and bright.
The paper burns,
As it touches the tip,
Creating smoke.
Who would think,
Such a small thing,
Such an invisible thing,
Could cost you your life?
Even when you aren't the one,
Smoking it?

Just because you want to waste your life,
Doesn't mean I do.
Just because you want your lungs,
To be blackened by smoke,
Doesn't mean I do.
Just because you're addicted,
Doesn't mean I am.
So don't smoke around me,
Go outside,
Go in the car,
Go on the moon for all I care,
Just don't smoke around me.

.:a/n:. Not a good poem. My dad just lit up, so I kind of wrote this. I
hate when he smokes around me, I feel like telling him off, but I'm too
scared of him to do that.