A Cigarette Poem by Soumi Mukhopadhyay

A cigarette

The story of mine begins with hope,
Then proceed with brood,
The thin leaves of mine rolling in your hand,
May give you pleasure but,
With time your wrinkles will be mine forever!
I am the smoke that ignites agony.
To some it is the astray, to some it is escaping through all.
From the fire of kitchen to the fire to breathe,
I burn myself to soothe people all though.
I am white for peace but red when I am angry,
A scintilla, makes your eyes sparkling!
The story of mine is a rollercoaster ride!
I have seen heartaches to heart fail,
I have seen puff to counter,
I am a failure story overall.
I am long, I am short,
I am royal, I am needy,
I am creepy yet crazy,
I am brown, white, raw or industrialized,
My hands have several blood on it.
From makers to takers,
From child to old,
I am responsible to break the make.
The story of mine was not like this at start,
It was luxury to necessity.
Along the wheel of revolution, I had changed taste;
The brown cigar of aristocracy, the sweet BLACK;
The chilling ICE BRUST, or the MINT flavored!
The CLASSIC to FLAKE Or The Marlboro to Pall Mall,
The high to low, everything wrapped in nicotine and all worries to blow,
With every inch of my burning, along with mine you are also losing your little times.
I was the result of the experiment of your luxurious ancestors,
But you youngsters, don't make me your necessity now! !
I pledge to die for a lifetime, Than to die slowly with each passing minute,
My hands are red, I am getting suffocated day by day.
The beginning may not be good,
But please make my story worthy to die for!
A spark, A puff, A counter, I wish for,
Than to be late but not to be LATE! ! !