The Truth About The Mist

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poem describing the journey of watching a loved one become ill due to smoking. Written for a poetry group I'm part of for the theme of "Hate."

Submitted: October 26, 2016

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Submitted: October 26, 2016

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There was a chill around the household
As I followed you to the door,
And looked out at the midnight
As if i’d never seen it before


Breathing in the crispness
Of the winter atmosphere,
I realize the beauty
Of the untouched world out here


Snow glistening on the branches
Of the oak tree standing strong,
Having undoubted eternal existence
In the place where it belongs


And gazing into the night sky
With a quiet intake of breath,
I see the moon covered by storm clouds
Yet still shinning nevertheless


The light emitting a seemingly soft
And warming sort of glow,
showcasing the serenity
Of the nighttime world below


I smile despite the icy chill
And turn to see your reaction,
About the winter wounder land
Yet you have turned your back a fraction


A small click and a flash of light
Yet no warmth was emitted,
From a small device you pocketed
For a substance you swore you quitted


Serenely climbing through the air
And cascading into a stream,
Was a silverly grey sort of mist
Which in the moonlight seemed to gleam


The mist swirls through
the frosty night breeze
Dancing to its own melody,
I Wonder if you’d indulge in it so
If you knew its intensions of felony


Slowly rising to greet you
The mist builds up with indifference,
Disturbing the once pristine air
Engulfing the un toxic innocence


The mist begins to shadow you
before drifting over to me,
Swaying over the threshold
Unharmful seemingly


But I know the real truth
Of the mist you love to breath,
This is no helpful drug you have
But addictive nicotine


Filling my heart with anger
A pounding in my head,
the smell burning my nostrils
As the mist relentlessly spreads


Tar, arsenic and
the crude oil solvent Benzene,
Poisoning the atmosphere
Deadly destructive unseen


Lung cancer Emphysema
And definite shortness of breath,
All conditions which can await you
And that’s if you escape death

The oak tree standing once so strong
Even seems weakened a little,
The healthy garden my healthy body
Surely slightly more brittle


The moon once shinning on so bold
Is even now masked and hidden,
Too ashamed to see your ways
Which God would want forbidden


This poisoning of your inner core
Is seeling in your fate,
But why pollute the innocent
When it’s not their decision to make


You turn back round to close the door
As indeed it’s very late,
but I know I will be visited
Again by the thing I most hate


Clinging tightly to your clothes
And to your very lungs
And swimming through your bloodstream
Is where chemicals now run


Even climbing the stairs to bed
Can leave you gasping and choking,
This is why I hate to see
A loved one who is smoking...


© Copyright 2017 Rubie Phoenix. All rights reserved.

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