A roll stranded in layers of paper,
A lighter in the left pocket of the keeper.
Doing away with his beauty of life,
Due To this very spark of light, resulting in a tremendous fight.
The burning thing between two fingers,
Which is all that feels right, when the fear lingers .
With every puff that comes from within,
The body feigns joy but dies from within.
You gasp, you cough but hold onto it still,
Till the day calls for a written will,
‘Cause it crept stealthily inside you,
While your caged heart fluttered like a dying bird.
Left away as a blooming distress, your heart.
Just like words unsaid, emotions not felt and feelings yet to be confessed.
haywiredthoughtsandstrokes 