Smoke

When late at night this city temporarily dies,
I start feeling, fearing,
the emptiness outside,
or is it inside, its eeriness,
ominous silence,
broken by my heavy breaths and risen pulse rate,
makes me wave my hand,
over my hair,
and thump my heart,
trying to calm,
failing at which,
I take a puff.
Fill my lungs, with dirt and dust,
and exhale the emptiness within,
that I fear and hide,
from this public wild,
that makes me silent within.
I let myself, numb for a while,
try to die, for limited time,
give my soul, rest for a while,
to face the screams within.
I fear this world, where freedom is mine,
but slave I am, and so is every child,
and It's not a crime. It's a condition,
without any opposition, it's a situation,
and we are its slave.
Slave of responsibilities,
of someone else's dreams,
of the boss, and colleague,
of the devil that hides,
behind the mask of joy,
makes me crave for money,
more than I enjoy.
Slave of lust, passion, distrust,
and this addiction of taking a puff
But till the time I decide,
to beak these chains, to try,
cigarettes numb my mind,
deceives me to rise,
like gases high in sky,
ignore my burning soul,
that emptiness making it sore.
And I sleep, with that peacefulness,
temporary, to wake up again tomorrow,
speak like a snake, and act like brave,
intoxicate the world, and cheat them with peace,
just like that cigarette, burning my body,
to rise like gases, and removing my soul like the ashes
till the body rots and die, and the soul escapes life.
The Puzzle Maker